Thwarted Fate, The Book of Descent, Volume I
by The Whills
Summary: A long time ago, in a galaxy that never was... At the end of the Battle of Geonosis, Senator Amidala chooses duty over love and the forbidden marriage never takes place. How strange that a decision so personal could alter the fate of the galaxy forever...
1. Prologue, Sith Musings

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PROLOGUE

Sith Musings

Five years ago, the Inter-Galactic DuroSteel Manufacturing Company had formally declared its alliance with the nascent Separatists union of star systems. Its factory district on Coruscant had been abandoned, its employees relocated or dismissed, depending on their patriotic affiliations, and the expansive area of land, buildings and machinery, was stripped bare of everything transportable. The rest had been razed out with a controlled fire. What was left of the once-teeming site was now an abandoned skeleton district, with decrepit buildings, and death traps of ware houses and hangars. A few of the local riffraff moved in. Boundaries were drawn between rivals and there were occasional clashes as these illegal residents defended their territory viciously. Yet despite their population, they kept to the edges of the district, leaving most of the area uninhabited. Why they did this, they probably would not have been able to explain. There was no sign of life anywhere in the area, not even the underground life of the lower levels of the huge planet; decades of chemical pollution from the factory had long wiped them out. Still, the slum people stayed away.

Somehow, on the most basic, most fundamental level of subconscious reasoning and instinct, they understood that there was someone - something - that had made a home in that district and that this entity would not take disturbances lightly.

* * *

The man stood at the edge of the hangar, his tall, dark figure like a black sword blade against the red glow of the fading daylight. His eyes tracked the path of the near-invisible craft that had just taken off from the hangar until it flew over the horizon. He remained standing there, hands clasped behind his back, a look of grim concentration on a face that had never been handsome, but was still strikingly aristocratic. 

Yan Dooku was thinking.

"Everything is going according to plan."

His Master was keeping secrets.

On his arrival here from Geonosis, Yan had given his Master a full report on the situation, from the capture of Obi-Wan Kenobi, the arrival of Senator Amidala, the foiled execution, the arrival of the Jedi Knights, the clone army and that final confrontation in the hangar.

"So Kenobi's apprentice is dead," Sidious had murmured when Dooku was finished.

"No," Dooku had said, his right hand, his fighting hand, closing into a fist. "Badly injured, certainly permanently crippled, but still alive. It was not a mortal wound."

"And as you said, Yoda arrived before you could finish him off?"

The subtlest of inflexions in the Master's voice.

The subtlest of hesitations from the Apprentice.

"Yes."

The glare of the setting sun would be entering his eyes soon. Yan stepped away from the edge of the hangar and waved a hand at the controls. The sudden draft of the swiftly shut panel door barely lifted his heavy cloak. He turned on his heel and paced the length of the hangar, all the while deep in thought.

The link between Sith Master and Apprentice was thick and strangling; and against conventional Sith tradition, Dooku had not submitted to a complete bond with Sidious when he committed himself to his apprenticeship. He was no trusting Initiate nor was he an Outer Rim castaway that would blindly give another complete control over him. Yan was - had been - a Jedi Master and he was not prepared to bend his knee to any one.

Which was all well and good because the offer to form a complete bond had not been made. Apparently, the Master trusted his apprentice as little as the apprentice his Master. Sidious was no fool. He also must have been aware of the dangers of linking his mind with someone already as powerful in the Force as Dooku.

However there remained other - subtler - means of discerning a deception. And the most simple of them was simply paying attention to convenient coincidences.

It was convenient for the Jedi on Geonosis that the emergency powers had been given to Chancellor Palpatine so swiftly that the army was dispatched immediately. It was a fortunate coincidence particularly for the Jedi Knights Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker who, to all intents and purposes, should have been dead long before the army arrived.

A Sith apprentice suffered from fewer illusions than a seasoned Jedi warrior. Darth Maul had been convenient for Sidious at a point in time in the Master's plans, but had Maul survived Naboo, Dooku was almost certain that the Sith Master would have found a way of killing his apprentice not soon after. Maul had been a skilled, dangerous and powerful warrior but as the leader of Confederacy of Independent States, he would have been out of his depth.

In a few years' time, when all of Sidious' plans had come to fruition, another redundant apprentice would exist: this time in the person of the leader of the Confederacy of Independent States.

Darth Sidious had not waited until his apprentice's death to search for a replacement - a fact that Dooku could personally testify to - and it was unlikely that he was doing so now. If Dooku's suspicions were correct, then Sidious had his sights set on…

…Obi-Wan Kenobi?

Dooku weighed the idea carefully. Until this afternoon, he had been almost certain of his suspicions. He had long perceived his Master's carefully veiled interest in the Knight and his Padawan and he had monitored Kenobi's activities closely. A venerable Knight was Kenobi, Dooku had concluded, strong in the Force and a firm believer of the Code.

How utterly droll.

Yet Qui-Gon must have seen something else in the boy and apparently, so did Sidious. Thus Dooku had kept an open mind when he met Obi-Wan that afternoon at Geonosis. He had been as forthright as he could in the circumstances and he made his offer. And was turned down. Then there had been that ridiculous confrontation in the hangar. It was hard to believe that this Kenobi was the same man that had killed a Sith Lord when he was a mere Padawan. The duel would have been bitterly disappointing if it had not been so amusing. Dooku had tired soon of toying with the man and had decided to dispatch…

(Qui-Gon's Padawan)

…Kenobi. And that was when the Sith Lord and one-time Jedi Master was thwarted by that _boy_.

"I am a slow learner."

Dooku felt his right arm contract with the echo of sympathetic pain that had struck him when he sliced off Anakin Skywalker's arm. The duel replayed surreally in his memory. Fighting in the dark hangar by the light of two lightsabers, using the heightened awareness of a Force-sensitive to see, the dark robed Padawan facing him like a mirror, imitating his stance, imitating his _style_. And finally, desperately, realizing the futility of fighting someone who was using his own tricks against him, he had consciously, deliberately drawn on the Dark Side.

An eighty-year-old ex-Jedi Master had been bested by a mere Padawan. It did not matter that in the end, Yan had been the victor. Dooku had defeated Kenobi with skill alone. With the Padawan, he had needed something more.

Humiliating. And enlightening.

It seemed that all this while, Dooku had miscalculated the focus of Darth Sidious' interest. It was not the Master, Kenobi; it was the _apprentice_, Anakin Skywalker.

Qui-Gon's protégée.

"Padawan," Yan Dooku whispered to a man that had been dead for ten years. "It all comes back to you one way or the other, doesn't it? You always knew how to stir the waters…"

His words reached the high walls and bounced back at him, whispering in a high-pitched echo over the monotonous noises that filled the space: the swish of his cloak and the click of his heels as he paced, the hum of the pilot droid recharging from a port, the night noises from the distant slum dwellings, the soft answering whisper of a familiar voice in the Force…

The shiny boots halted in mid-step as Yan Dooku froze. Immediately, he reached out into the Force, wrapping it round his consciousness, probing it for that other... familiar… presence… He felt the minds of the slum dwellers, their tenacity, their violence, occasional bright spots of honor and integrity that blinked as brightly and as unapproachable as a star against dark sky of warped presences. The familiar presence was the brightest of all those stars, hovering like a fog at the edge of his consciousness. Yet Dooku could not touch it, could not make contact with it. He could _feel_ it reaching for him, could almost hear a voice whispering 'Master'… His hands clenched in frustration as he _stretched_…but try as he may, he could not make a link and after a while, the bright presence faded, dimmed and vanished.

Why? WHY?

It took Yan Dooku a long time before he could regain full possession of himself. He was still standing rigidly in the centre of the hangar. His cloak fell in straight lines; the air was completely still; the overheard windows showed that it was well into the night.

Conflicting feelings of loss, regret, and doubt had risen up in him when that presence had touched him and with the Force, he stripped them off him ruthlessly. The Dark Side swirled around him and through him. All he had to do was to let go and he could reach any one of those minds he had felt and possess it, destroy it. That was power enough for now. He would not look over his shoulder like an inept Initiate.

He walked briskly to the pilot droid and unplugged it. The droid switched gracefully into ready mode, its lights blinking.

"I am departing," Dooku instructed.

It beeped its acknowledgement. The ramp of the sail ship started lowering gracefully. Dooku threw the hangar a cursory glance, making sure there was nothing of his or his Master's left behind. There were shields in this place to protect their hideout from being breached by the inhabitants that dwelled near by, and by other sentients, but those shields would be ineffective if a Jedi got it into his head to investigate this area. Highly unlikely. Especially now considering their present state of affairs. All the same, ruin many a good plan, sloppy mistakes did.

Yan flinched again.

The place was safe enough, he decided forcefully and walked swiftly up the ramp.

He settled himself into the cockpit; the droid followed soon after. Through the viewscreen, Dooku watched the hangar door flew open as his thoughts wandered back to their original contemplation.

His Master was keeping secrets.

Well, so was he.

The droid completed its silent countdown sequence and the sail ship floated out on repulsor lifts. At the edge of the steep plummet, the turbines powered up; defying gravity, the ship rose into the black starless sky, leaving the blaring night lights of the city planet behind it as it broke atmosphere. Its sails fanned out elegantly and wrapped around the pod-like vessel like a balloon shield.

Darth Sidious would not wait for Lord Tyrannus' demise to find a suitable replacement.

Lord Tyrannus had no intention of being replaced.

It was time to resolve this matter once and for all.

* * *


	2. Broken Vows

**CHAPTER I**

Broken Vows

"Please place your hand palm first on the ID-pad, sir."

His eyebrows raising slightly, the bearded man in neat Jedi robes nonetheless co-operated with the security droid. There was a brief pause and then the droid beeped out the analysis:

"Obi-Wan Kenobi

"Jedi Master

"Prior appointment with Senator Amidala: Positive

"Please step forward, sir. You are welcome and sorry for the inconvenience."

"Not at all," Obi-Wan murmured as he stepped into the lift. The doors swung shut and he was carried upwards, the city planet falling beneath the glass underneath his feet as his thoughts swam in his brain.

That the evidence of his and Anakin's brief stint as personal security to the Senator was still in place was both heartening and unnerving. Was it only two weeks ago that Obi-Wan had rode up this lift beside his fidgety apprentice, no worries on his mind other than how best to amuse himself watching Anakin fall over his feet in front of the Naboo Senator? It felt like a lifetime ago. Somehow between that time and now, a war had started and Obi-Wan and his apprentice had become inexplicably estranged - the evidence of that being more than Obi-Wan's usual paranoia, it was the reason why instead standing at his Master's side now, Anakin was lying in stasis on a cot in the Jedi infirmary, barely lucid after the last of a series of painful operations to fit his prosthetic limb to his right forearm.

The Jedi Master fingered the edge of the thick plasti-sheet that he had found waiting for him when he left the infirmary that morning.

"I would be honored if you were to meet me at the first available opportunity, Master Kenobi. There are certain matters of common interest that we need to discuss.

"Amidala of Naboo"

It was hand-written and, according to the Archivist in charge of Temple correspondence, it had also been hand-delivered. The cryptic note was both intriguing and irritating. Obi-Wan did not much care for politicians and their schemes. Did Padmé Amidala think he was at her personal disposal because of his and Anakin's erstwhile assignment? It was an error that had been made before and it could be corrected easily enough with an official message. Obi-Wan certainly had no intention of prolonging his and Anakin's acquaintance with the Naboo Senator. Except for a brief window of time of five minutes on board the military vessel that shipped them from Geonosis to Coruscant, the Jedi Master had not had any ample opportunity to have a much-needed conversation with his apprentice. One of the chief aims of that conversation, when it eventually happened, would be to discover the exact definition of Anakin's relationship with Senator Amidala. Obi-Wan was certain that it would not be any more pleasant a conversation than a certain 'discussion' he and Anakin had had inside the gunship on Geonosis. Not unlikely, Anakin felt the same way. Obi-Wan's apprentice had made a little time in between rounds of operations, physiotherapy and compulsory recuperation to speak with Chancellor Palpatine and send a message to Senator Amidala. He was yet to make time to speak with his Master.

The lift drew to a halt. The panel door slid open and Obi-Wan stepped into the soft blue interior of the small foyer. There was no warm welcoming committee in the person of Jar Jar Binks. Instead a uniformed security officer stepped up smartly, conducted a perfunctory retinal scan on Obi-Wan and escorted him into the empty lounge.

"The Senator will be with you shortly."

"Thank you," said Obi-Wan with a small bow. He sat down and stared at his hands as the officer walked away.

The sooner he and Anakin terminated their acquaintance with Senator Amidala, the better.

_So why am I here?_ Obi-Wan thought, self-disparagingly.

_To see if that is even possible_, came the disquieting answer from the Force.

* * *

"The Senator is in a holo-conference, please ask Master Kenobi to wait for another ten minutes."

"Yes, milady."

The young officer saluted smartly and walked off. Dormé shut the office door gently and walked back to her mistress' side.

"You do understand that this is in Naboo's best interest, Senator." The voice in the holo-image was speaking.

The blue tinted holo-image of the Supreme Chancellor was not an attractive replication. His strong benevolent features had morphed into bony and predatory-looking features. The beak of a nose, his one physiognomy, added to the resemblance of a large bird of prey.

In contrast, the reflected light on Senator Amidala's face made her look paler and younger than her actual self. Her grim expression looked childish and petulant.

"I understand that the Jedi are spread thin as it is. The privilege of a personal Jedi escort is more luxury than I deserve."

"You speak of your own person , Senator and that is admirable. But you must never forget to be conscious of the office you hold. What is ostentatious for Padmé Naberrie is essential to the Senator of Naboo. Always remember: as a public servant, you are no longer a free individual."

Padmé's face darkened fractionally. "I am full aware of that, Chancellor. I do not need-"

The blue face turned away from the Senator, making her cut short her sentence. It spoke over its shoulder, its misdirected voice mumbling garble through the audio-receiver. Then Palpatine turned back to face her, an added look of strain on his already over-burdened features.

"I have to cut this meeting short. I -"

"Chancellor, if I may once more -"

"Senator Amidala," said the Chancellor, overriding her, "I would not like to invoke another executive order on you so soon." His voice had become firm, unyielding.

Amidala's flushed face whitened. "Understood, Chancellor," she said grimly.

Palpatine gave her a tired smile. "Be safe my lady," he said fondly. Amidala nodded. The holo-image flickered and went off.

The Senator raised her hands to her face, dug her fingers into her temples and let out a small groan of frustration.

"It is well, my lady," Dormé said soothingly. The blue astromech droid, resting in its niche in the corner of her office gave a soft beep.

"Is it, Dormé?" Amidala asked. Dormé had not heard her mistress sound so tired in a long time. "The Chancellor has more or less ordered me to remain on Coruscant until An… I can get a Jedi escort to Naboo."

"The Chancellor only wishes for your well-being, my lady."

"His concern is depriving me of doing my job, Dormé."

"There is no pressing need to return home, is there, my lady? You have already informed Queen Jamilla of the situation." Dormé pointed out.

Amidala's hands fell from her head; she pressed her hands flat unto the table and leaned forward, resting her weight slightly on them.

"There are other reasons why I need to leave Coruscant… And quickly," she said softly.

Dormé nodded understandingly and tried to mask her own hurt feelings. That something had changed between them since they parted company on Coruscant two weeks ago was obvious. Amidala was keeping a secret and she didn't even make an effort to pretend otherwise. But much as she would like to, it was not Dormé's place to question her mistress. She could only make herself available whenever Padmé chose to relieve her burden.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi is here to see you, milady."

Padmé sat up at once, and looked at Dormé in consternation.

"He is here, now?" She cried with something like alarm.

Dormé was puzzled. She had personally dispatched the Senator's message to the Jedi requesting for this meeting. "He arrived ten minutes ago, in the middle of your meeting with the Chancellor," she said now.

The Senator's hands were shaking, Dormé noticed suddenly. Pressed flat as they were against the table, the movement was almost unnoticeable. But their vibration was causing the objects on the table to jump slightly.

"My lady?" Dormé asked, leaning over to remove Padmé's hands. They _were_ trembling. And they were very cold. The hand maiden's eyes flew to the Senator's face. It was paper-white, her eyes wide with something like panic.

"I can ask him to leave?" suggested Dormé. "Reschedule another meeting… Meet him on your behalf…"

"No," whispered Padmé. "I will see him now."

"But my lady-"

"I'm fine, Dormé." Padmé got to her feet unsteadily and she walked slowly to the door. Her steps faltered few meters before the point where her proximity would energize the automatic panels and she halted. Arms folded against her chest, the Senator turned around and waited, head bowed, thinking deeply. Dormé watched apprehensively.

Padmé finally looked up. Her face was pale and resolute and her fists were clenched. She nodded grimly at Dormé's puzzled expression, and shook her head firmly when Artoo tried to follow her. Then she turned on her heel and stepped through the panels.

* * *

"It's a pleasure to see you well again, my lady."

"Thank you, Master Kenobi. I am pleased to see you fully recovered."

"Thank you, my lady. Your note mentioned something about matters arising?"

"Yes, of course; I am so sorry for the delay."

"Not at all."

"Would you mind if we stood by the window?"

"Of course not."

He walked a step behind her.

"How is your Padawan learner?" Coolly, carelessly.

"Anakin is fine." Carefully, concisely.

"That's good." Distractedly, uninterestedly.

Obi-Wan was not in the least bit fooled. They reached the large plasti-glass and stood side by side, staring down at the vast beauty of the city planet spread out in front of them.

"Not as impressive as the view from the Chancellor's office," Amidala said suddenly, "but soothing to me all the same." She turned to smile rather tentatively at Obi-Wan. "I have made many decisions by looking outside this window."

Her mood was strange. It was not the hybrid of genuine pleasure and exasperation it had been at their reunion a few weeks ago; neither was it that stronger sense of anxiety that had pervaded her the brief times their paths had crossed on the ship en route from Geonosis. Now, there was a sense of resolution, of - if he was not mistaken - self-condemnation? Even her audience with him was unconventional; they stood alone in the lounge, without her usual entourage of handmaiden and security officers.

Her face, as always though, was a perfect façade of calm and control.

"Can you think of any reason why the Chancellor would be interested in whether Anakin accompanies me back to Naboo?" Amidala asked suddenly.

She was looking at him with a direct, questioning gaze and the Jedi Master sensed that they had moved immediately beyond the realm of petty conversation and straight to the purpose of this meeting.

He answered slowly and carefully. "Technically, Anakin's assignment ended when I discovered the motive behind the attempts on your life."

"So I am no longer under Jedi protection?"

"Well, not exactly," Obi-Wan conceded reluctantly. "You're still in danger. More so now that there is no longer a need for secrecy on the Separatist's part."

"And Anakin would be the logical choice to continue to protect me."

"That would be for the Council to decide." Obi-Wan said firmly then he asked: "Your suspicions of the Chancellor's motives… do you have any reason for thinking so, my lady?" Although, Obi-Wan's recent feelings about Senator Amidala were at best ambiguous, he had a high regard for her intelligence and intuition.

She shrugged. "Apart from the fact that I have been more or less instructed to wait on Coruscant until Anakin is well enough to escort me home? No."

Obi-Wan looked back at the glass; his brow furrowed as he thought deeply, giving her question full consideration. The Chancellor _had_ specifically requested that he and Anakin be assigned to Amidala. And he _had_ aided Anakin by giving Amidala the executive order to return to Naboo. But apart from the desire to protect a close Naboo comrade, there did not seem to be any nefarious motive behind either of those actions. Briefly, the Jedi Master sunk into the Force, and tried to feel if it resonated even slightly with her suspicions. But there was not even the slightest echo.

He turned to face her and shrugged. "The Chancellor and Anakin have always been close friends. Perhaps, His Excellency is trying to help Anakin by pushing him into a high-profile mission." His eyes narrowed. "Perhaps, Anakin himself requested his help in continuing this assignment."

Color went into her cheeks and she looked away.

"Is there anything else, my lady?" Obi-Wan asked pointedly.

A long silence followed. He could sense nothing specific from the Senator; she was too reticent by nature and too skilled a politician to let anything slip past either her outward façade or her inner reserve. All the same, he could feel something turbulent underneath that calm surface. The silence was heavy and brooding.

There was more to this than met the eye.

Finally, Amidala inhaled sharply, a long shuddering breath. "There is one more thing, Master Kenobi." She turned to him, her face set. "I would like to return to Naboo, as soon as possible… today, in fact. I need a Jedi escort and I would be grateful for yours."

* * *

In the few seconds that followed Padmé's announcement, the expression on Kenobi's face was that of shock. Clearly, the actual request was not the one he had come here expecting. Then he threw on his mask of Jedi calm and once again he was inscrutable.

Padmé turned to the window. She had come here because the view usually calmed her. But so far, following the motion of the straight lines of traffic with her eyes only increased the sensation of nausea that had started building up within her when Dormé had announced Obi-Wan Kenobi's presence.

"May I ask milady why?" Master Kenobi said finally.

She drew air into her lungs discretely and turned back to him. "Like I said, I need to return to Naboo as soon as possible. I cannot wait for Anakin to complete his rehabilitation." She shrugged with studied casualness.

Kenobi's face hardened slightly. He was probably thinking her callous. Relative to the truth that was a preferable assumption but it was no less unfair and she seethed silently.

His next question, therefore, took her completely by surprise.

"Isn't there something else you would like to add?"

She almost jumped and her heart slowed into a heavy beat. _How did he...? How_ much _did he...?_ Keeping her face as expressionless as possible, Padmé answered firmly. "No, I don't think so, Master Kenobi."

He looked at her calmly. A battle of wills then. At another time, she would have held out indefinitely but she right now, she did not feel _well_. The nausea was overwhelming her and looking at that inscrutable face was making her feel ill. Padmé felt her expressionless façade waver and a wave of anger hit her.

Fine.

"I do not want to be further subjected to your apprentice's company," she said finally.

This time his shock showed for far longer than a few seconds. His eyes actually narrowed.

"Did Anakin behave inappropriately to-?"

"No, he did not," she said quickly. "But surely, you are aware that your apprentice has… a certain infatuation for me," she said with studied wryness.

Kenobi's eyebrows went up. Padmé actually felt a small flicker of pride at invoking so much expression from him.

"I would not have guessed that you found his feelings so disagreeable."

"I beg your pardon, Master Kenobi?" She asked frostily.

Kenobi smiled slightly but he did not back down. "What I meant was, from what I could see after Geonosis, you and Anakin seemed to be good friends. From that, I inferred that you were at the very least flattered by his attentions."

"They are distracting," Padmé said, in the same wry, almost scornfully indifferent voice, the one she reserved for the likes of Nute Gunray and Count Dooku. "And my limits of diplomacy are stretched out as they are."

His brows went even higher. "Is that possible for a woman in your position?"

Padmé permitted herself a small smile. "Believe it or not, Master Kenobi, even senators have tempers."

His own smile broadened. "I will take your word for it, milady." He hesitated; then added cautiously, "Anakin is young. And very impressionable. He has a high and sincere regard for you. Do not take it the wrong way."

"I understand that but -"

"But perhaps it would be best if you were both given a reprieve from each other's company." He finished for her. "I will put your request forward to the Council with my own personal recommendation. Even if my own services are not directly available, someone other than Anakin will be assigned to you. I assure you of that. I can venture to speak for the Council when I say that Anakin's interest in you is something that the Council would want diffused as soon as possible."

Padmé's voice changed; it became less frosty and more earnest. "Please note that I am not making a formal complaint, just a request. I won't want to harm Anakin's career in anyway."

Kenobi nodded. "Neither do I, my lady. Anakin needs to learn his place and it is my duty to teach him. Do not be troubled in the least."

Even if she had not already felt nauseous, his flippant words alone would have been enough to irritate her. Padmé nodded abruptly and turned back to the window. Once more, the view failed to improve her disposition. She felt faint and weak.

This was what she wanted. This was precisely what she had chosen in her head during those sleepless nights between Geonosis and now. Now that she had got her wish, she could barely continue this pretence of indifference.

Out the corner of her eye, she saw Kenobi stepped closer. "My lady-"

Suddenly, Padmé could no longer bear the Jedi Master's presence. She felt as if his proximity was strangling her. She needed him to leave and to leave now. Turning on her heel, she started walking briskly across the lounge, fighting back the nausea. "Thank you for your time, Master Kenobi. If you'll walk with me…"

His hand on her shoulder froze her. She stood still without turning and fought back a sudden spell of dizziness.

"My lady, you are not well." His voice was concerned.

Padmé pulled away from him and walked to the lounge chair. She did not lean on it, she would show no weakness, but she placed a hand against its back. Kenobi watched her movements, a line furrowed between his brows.

"No, I am not," she said honestly. "I hope you'll excuse me." She waved her free hand at the general direction of the door.

The Jedi Master ignored her not-so-subtle request and walked even closer, openly scrutinizing her. Padmé glared at him resentfully, too physically weak to move away and too mentally weak to keep up her façade.

"Isn't there something else you would like to tell me, my lady?" He said finally, his voice very gentle. It was a repeat of his earlier question.

Despite herself, Padmé smiled. Coolly. Bitterly. "There are perhaps many things that I _ought_ to tell you, Master Kenobi," she whispered. "But there is nothing that I would _like_ to tell you."

His eyes narrowed. "Is this about my Padawan?"

"Please leave, Master Kenobi."

He took his time, staring probingly at her. Padmé fought the urge to call for Dormé and glared back unflinchingly. _Let him see_, she thought wildly, fighting back another wave of dizziness. Perhaps it was better this way.

"Yes, I think it is, as well," Kenobi said finally.

Padmé glared at him in speechless fury.

The Jedi Master took a step back and bowed deeply. "You need some rest, my lady. I would advise you take it." There was a fractional pause. "Thank you for seeing me," he added contrarily.

She had invited him, not the other way round.

Padmé's eyes followed him until he disappeared into the small foyer. A shadow detached itself from the wall and became a security officer showing him out. Padmé waited until the panels slid shut. Then she groped around the sofa and fumbled into the seat. On top of the nausea and dizziness, she now felt feverish. Her heart was pounding, her face was flushed but her hands, when she clasped them together to still their renewed trembling, were as cold as ice.

"My lady, are you alright?"

The security officer that had escorted Master Kenobi stepped up to her in concern.

_Do I look alright?_ Padmé thought. Out loud, she said out weakly: "Please get me my handmaiden."

"Immediately, my lady."

He moved quickly and smartly across the room. Padmé used the reprieve of solitude to rest her head in her hands.

So this was what a broken heart felt like. The poets and song-writers had got it right after all. It was no illusionary emotion, no fanciful heartache. It was a sickness in the blood, a tangible physical pain that threatened to cripple and destroy.

That she was the architect of her own pain made little difference.

"My lady?"

"My lady, are you alright?"

"My lady, you are not well."

Of course I am not well! Anakin, you will never know how much I suffer for this…But it has to be done.

Please, forgive me.

* * *


	3. Reassignment

**CHAPTER II**

Re-assignment

Obi-Wan Kenobi exited the lift just outside the Jedi Council's meeting chamber and paused momentarily in front of the door. He took a deep breath, not sure what to expect from this encounter, not really sure even what it was that he wanted.

He would, of course, do as he had promised Amidala and request permission to return her to Naboo. Anakin had already been assigned to the task but there was no doubt in his mind that the Senator's wishes hadn't been considered. Given the obvious friendship between his Padawan and the Naboo diplomat, it probably never occurred to anyone that she would object.

One thing was certain after meeting with Amidala: Anakin should not serve as her escort. Other things were less certain. His own request to take her back to Naboo would probably be granted, but a part of him wished another Jedi could escort her home.

To say that Anakin wouldn't be happy to find out his own Master had requested his reassignment - much less that Obi-Wan had personally stepped in to take his place - would be a mastery of understatement.

Ah well. He'd best get this over with. It truly _was_ for the best.

He waved his palm in front of the sensor and the door to the Council chambers slid open.

The brilliant orange of the late Coruscant sunset blazed in panoramic beauty through the huge windows ringing the room. The brightness of it made shadowy silhouettes of the two figures that stood staring out at the city in silence. Jedi Masters Yoda and Mace Windu each appeared lost in their own private thoughts. They sensed Obi-Wan's presence as he entered and turned to greet him.

The more diminutive of the two cocked his head inquisitively. "Early you are, Obi-Wan."

Master Windu added his own observation. "Yes, your Padawan's mission debriefing isn't for another hour."

Obi-Wan heard the unspoken question from both Masters.

"I'm not here for Anakin's debriefing." He stopped in front of the two council leaders, his vision slowly adjusting to the glare of the outside light. "I've just come from speaking with Senator Amidala. As you both know, the Supreme Chancellor is still insistent that she maintain a Jedi bodyguard for all interstellar travel. She has requested that I, not Anakin, be the one to escort her back to Naboo. I'm here to get the council's permission."

Yoda's moss-colored eyes widened slightly. "Assigned your Padawan to that task, we did, once he is sufficiently recovered."

"Yes," Obi-Wan replied, "but I've just spoken to the Senator and she is most adamant that Anakin _not_ be the one to escort her.

"Give you a reason, did she?" Again Yoda seemed slightly perplexed. Obi-Wan knew he was most likely remembering how Amidala had run to his Padawan in the hangar on Geonosis. The display had left little doubt about the depth of her feelings for him.

"She only claimed that Anakin's feelings for her - specifically his admiration and affection - are an inconvenience. She was very clear that she has no wish to see him again." He thought for a moment before adding, "Anakin _is_ overly fond of her. I tend to agree with her reasoning."

Master Windu rubbed his lower lip with his thumb. It was a gesture he often made when thinking a matter over.

"Chancellor Palpatine's point is well made." He offered. "The threat to the Senator's life still exists as long as a bounty is offered." He turned from the window to face Obi-Wan squarely. "Jedi protection on her journey home is an imperative. If there is any truth to her feeling that Anakin cares for her too much then perhaps it _would_ be best if you escort her. Tell Amidala that the Council approves her request and the two of you may leave tomorrow morning."

Obi-Wan exhaled on a bazaar combination of relief and trepidation. There was only one problem with that scenario.

"Masters, I don't think she will wait that long." His comment was ambiguous, but the truth of his words rang through - she definitely would not wait.

Windu sighed. "Fine, then. You can leave at once."

"Thank you." Obi-Wan gave a respectful half-bow to both of them before turning on his heel to leave.

"Wait, Obi-Wan!" It was Yoda's voice that halted him mid-step. He turned slowly back toward the wizened old Jedi. "A question I have for you."

"Yes?" Obi-Wan was already distracted, wanting to get his new mission underway.

"Mentioned little, you have, about your duel with Count Dooku." Yoda's eyes pierced him, as if searching for what remained unsaid.

"There isn't much to tell. It was quite short." Obi-Wan's voice betrayed his self-derision. He'd managed to avoid this line of questioning when giving his report to the entire council. Why would Yoda bring it up now?

The master's next words were even more surprising. "A strong Jedi you are, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Your defeat at the hands of Dooku… owed more, it did, to circumstance than any shortcoming of yours." How could Yoda have known that he'd been agonizing over the ease of Dooku's victory?

"I don't understand." He replied, knowing confusion had to be evident on his face.

"Much more than a rebellious politician Dooku is. The dark side is strong with him. Expected, you did, to face him with your Padawan at your side. Unprepared, were you, to face him alone." Ah, it was suddenly starting to make sense. "Clouded, your mind was, by concern for your apprentice. Foolish and impulsive his actions were."

Yoda slowly crossed the floor to stand in front of him, gimer stick tapping with each step.

"Remember," he looked up at Obi-Wan intently, "your master and your Padawan are not one and the same."

The truth of Yoda's words finally began to sink in. Faded memories of Qui-Gon's unexpected loss had vividly flooded back in that Geonosian hangar.

"If faced with the same situation again, more focused would you be."

Yoda was giving him a great gift - a kind of absolution from what he had perceived to be a true failure on his part. Such gifts were rare and he was grateful. "Thank you, Master."

"Obi-Wan, another concern we have." Yoda cleared his throat. "Your Padawan."

"Master," Obi-Wan hastened to explain, "I'm sure Anakin will forget all about Senator Amidala in time."

"It is not his affection for the Senator that concerns us now." Mace Windu interjected, causing Obi-Wan to glance from one Jedi Master to the other. It wasn't? What else was there to be concerned about, if not Anakin's growing emotional attachment to Padmé Amidala?

"On Tatooine, he suffered much." Yoda answered the unspoken question, leaving Obi-Wan to wonder just how much the council knew.

During his own debriefing Obi-Wan had given only the most cursory explanation for why his apprentice had gone to the outer rim world. At this stage his Padawan was more than capable of explaining his own choices and it saved Obi-Wan the trouble of apologizing on his behalf.

He nodded, prepared to impart what little knowledge he did have. "Anakin went to Tatooine to try and rescue his mother. Something to do with the nightmares he's been having. Apparently he found her, but she was already dead."

Actually, Anakin hadn't even told him that much. His Padawan had been sedated on the flight back from Geonosis to help manage the pain and shock of his lost limb. Strapped to a bed in the Republic ship's medical bay, he'd been thrashing about, muttering to himself. Most of what he said was unintelligible, but Obi-Wan had understood a small part loud and clear.

Anakin's mother was dead and Anakin blamed himself for not saving her.

Both Yoda and Mace appeared to expect him to continue his explanation.

"That's all I know." He felt a little sheepish. "I haven't really had a chance to speak to him since his surgery."

"Explains much, this does." Yoda tilted his head smugly toward Mace, who nodded in agreement. "The pain we felt from young Skywalker. The loss of his mother it must have been."

"Yes," Master Windu added, "that would explain his pain, but not the rest…"

Once again Obi-Wan looked from one Jedi master to the other, his consternation evident.

Somehow they'd felt Anakin's pain. Through the Force? He remained silent long enough to allow them to explain, but neither council leader said a word.

Though his outward demeanor was composed, inside Obi-Wan gave a frustrated sigh. His time and patience were growing short. He had a job to do. When it was obvious no explanation was forthcoming he spoke. "If you don't need me, I really should go."

"Hmmm. Yes, go Obi-Wan, off to Naboo. And may the Force be with you."

The young Knight was headed out the door before Yoda finished speaking. He didn't see both Council leaders turn back to the darkening sky, their expressions grim.

* * *

As soon as he left the Council, and against his better judgment, Obi-Wan went straight to the Healing Wards in search of his Padawan. He approached Anakin's designated cot warily and it was with paradoxical relief that he found Anakin sleeping. Obi-Wan knelt on the floor beside the cot. There were no chairs.

The Healer in attendance, Luminara's Padawan, Barriss Offee, was kneeling at the other side of Anakin's cot. She informed Obi-Wan that Anakin was in a healing trance.

"He'll be awake in half an hour. He has a meeting with the Council," she told him.

Obi-Wan was grateful for that information. He really had no intention of talking to his Padawan right now. He only wanted to look.

His eyes went first to the boy's face. In the dreamless slumber of the trance, with the scratches and bruises of Geonosis long since faded, Anakin looked almost unchanged from the tiresome boy that Obi-Wan had sent off reluctantly to Naboo a few weeks ago. It was a happy deception. When Anakin was awake, his eyes were old and yes, pained; his face was shuttered and closed.

A glint of metal caught Obi-Wan's eye and his gaze went to Anakin's new right arm. The cybernetics limb was a crude skeletal framework of durasteel and wires. An EM-DEE droid had informed Obi-Wan that this was just an initial replacement for functionality. A better fitting would be procured later. In the meanwhile, it hung from the stump of Anakin's arm like an ancient glove weapon.

"After his meeting," Padawan Offee whispered, "he will be discharged from the Ward. He will come back later for more fittings and of course, I'll be checking on him regularly but he can return to your quarters."

_Perfect timing_, Obi-Wan thought wryly.

During their only conversation since Geonosis, a conversation that had consisted all of three sentences, his Padawan had expressed to Obi-Wan an uncharacteristic indifference about the loss of his arm and its mechanical replacement. Obi-Wan would have probed further but he had not been given the chance. Anakin was in and out of the cybernetics replacement theatre and neither the droids nor the Healers would give the pair more than a moment's privacy.

Anakin did not seem to mind.

Suddenly, the weeks since Obi-Wan had had a _real_ conversation with his Padawan seemed to weigh on his mind and overwhelm him. The idea of leaving Anakin now with so many matters as yet unresolved - for an assignment that was almost certainly guaranteed to cause them more problems, left a very sour taste in the Jedi Master's mouth.

But there was one thing, he _could _do…

When he and Anakin had been given separate assignments, the Council had instructed Obi-Wan to put their Master-Padawan bond to sleep until Anakin's mission was completed. Despite his instinctive reluctance, Obi-Wan had had no real cause to argue this: that was the way it had always been done; every Padawan was completely on his own on his first assignment. Well, Anakin's mission was complete now. And as far as Obi-Wan was concerned, there was no cause not to immediately restore his connection to his Padawan.

With a deep breath that reached all the way to the bottom of his lungs, Obi-Wan shut his eyes and sunk into the Force. He felt the silent consciousness of Anakin in his trance-like slumber, and the gentle intelligence that was Padawan Offee. He could feel the auras of the hundreds of Jedi in the Temple like a living pulse. He sifted through these sensations, and turned his focus inwards, searching through his own emotions of doubt and worry - accepting them and dispelling them - still searching, until he finally found one end of the sleeping bond.

Obi-Wan woke it up gently… almost hesitantly. He knew the moment it sprung to life: the Force whirlpool that was Anakin seemed to burst into his consciousness like a flame. It was at once bright, powerful and indiscernible. A complete connection could not be formed with Anakin unconscious; and when Anakin regained consciousness, he would probably be unaware of the restored link until Obi-Wan actively used the connection to communicate with him. Of course, even then Anakin would still have full control over how much of himself was revealed to his Master: the bond was not invasive. But at least the link had been re-established; a connection had been restored. Satisfied, Obi-Wan lifted himself out of the Force.

He opened his eyes to Padawan Offee's sympathetic face. With the Healer's link she had with his Padawan she had probably picked up on some of Obi-Wan's emotions.

"He's fine, Master Kenobi," she said reassuringly.

It embarrassed Obi-Wan that his anxiety had been so obvious. Still, he was moved by, and grateful for the Mirialan Healer's compassion. Barriss Offee was a merit to Luminara. He had thought so on Ansion a few weeks - _weeks!_ - ago and he thought so now. He was leaving his Padawan in good hands.

"Thank you, Padawan Offee," he said.

The Jedi Master got to his feet and bowed to the Healer apprentice. She bowed her head in return. After a last long look at his sleeping charge, he turned on his heel and left for his new assignment.

* * *

With every step she took down the long graceful hallways of the Senate proper, Padmé strengthened her resolve. The sun was setting over Coruscant, the neon lights gradually twinkling into existence, encompassing the skyline. It was beautiful and something she usually enjoyed, but tonight she did not raise her head to look. She walked with a quiet intensity to the hanger where a ship awaited to take her home.

When Obi-Wan had left her apartment earlier that afternoon, she had collapsed in a heap, unable to bear the weight of her sorrow any longer. She clawed at her metallic bodice, as if it were suffocating her. A panic-stricken Dormé rushed in, Artoo thrilling at her heels, to comfort her usually stoic mistress. After sobbing inconsolably for long moments, Padmé ordered the handmaiden away to begin packing immediately. Artoo followed, whistling unhappily. Then Padmé rose unsteadily to her feet, smoothed out the wrinkles in the stiffened fabric of her skirt and with a sudden burst of defiance, the Senator barged into her office.

Padmé found what she needed in the middle drawer of her desk: a delicately carved wooden box. It held her best parchment, handmade in a tiny Naboo village, and saved only for special correspondences. Anakin deserved at least that. It had been a gift from her father; she would need his quiet strength now more than ever.

She was trembling again. It was only after several tries that she could put ink to parchment with a steady hand.

Anakin

* * *

Anakin Skywalker stood inside the circle of seated Jedi Council members, his expression betraying none of the turmoil he was feeling inside. He'd just finished recounting the events that had occurred since he'd been assigned to protect Senator Amidala. From the moment he left Coruscant to the final battle against Count Dooku on Geonosis, he'd explained it all.

Of course, he had painstakingly omitted any details about Padmé or their stay in the lake country. The Council wouldn't be interested in how beautiful she looked by firelight or how hearing her laugh could turn him inside out.

In the interest of compensating, though, he gave himself credit for being completely honest about his nightmares, the decision to leave for Tatooine and the agony he felt from the death of his mother.

Again, he omitted a few key details. The retaliatory attack on the Tusken camp would remain locked away in his mind until he felt capable of dealing with it on his own. For now, the memory brought only a torrent of anger and bitterness he couldn't face.

Throughout his explanation the council remained quiet, listening with passive expressions. Even up to and during his description of the duel with Dooku they seemed almost detached. Anakin was thankful for that. He didn't know how he would've stood accusing looks, questioning stares or heads shaken in disappointment. Living with his own failure was hard enough without the council's negative reinforcement.

He stood quietly, hands clasped, waiting for a reaction from those he held in high regard. Several of the council members were leaning towards each other, conferring quietly amongst themselves. Anakin gazed past them to the glowing traffic lanes cutting through the Coruscant night. He'd come in here expecting to be reprimanded for blatantly disregarding the council's orders, but for some reason, he now had the strangest feeling that he wasn't going to be punished.

_Perhaps they feel you've been punished enough already_. He felt eyes on him as he heard the distinctly female voice in his head. He looked up discreetly to see Adi Gallia wink at him and give him a small smile.

A wave of relief washed the remaining dread from his tense muscles. The liberated feeling was short-lived, though, as he quickly became aware of a dull throbbing in his arm.

He rubbed at it then wished he hadn't. Each time he touched the cold metallic limb the harsh reality of his loss crashed in on him again. Part of his body was no longer his own - a part he would always carry with him as a grim souvenir of Geonosis and Count Dooku. The ache in his arm would dissipate over time, the medic droid had said. Even now the pain was more imagined than real. It sure felt real enough. In fact, he'd insisted the droid check the cybernetic implant again, only to be told for the hundredth time that it was working perfectly.

"So, young Anakin, how do you feel?" The council members were looking at him again and it was Mace Windu asking the question.

Anakin turned toward him. For a flash of a second he felt like the ten year old boy he'd been the last time he'd stood in this exact spot and been asked that same question. It took minimal effort to banish the memory. He was not that boy now. He knew it and so did the council.

This time he was not afraid to give an answer. There was no right or wrong reply. Only truth.

"Master, I feel restless. As if nothing is finished. As if I still have more to do."

"And indeed you do, Padawan." It was Yoda who answered. "Much more to do, we _all_ have. The shroud of the dark side has fallen. Begun the Clone War has, and with it will come many changes. Ready are you to meet these challenges?"

"I am, Master Yoda." Anakin replied with conviction, feeling with every fiber of his being that he was, indeed, ready. Padmé loved him. With that knowledge burning inside him he felt he could take on a whole galaxy of Separatists and win.

"Hah!" Yoda laughed, as did several of the council members. "Ready you are not. Ready I am not. But no matter. Little difference it makes." The humor faded from his voice. "The enemy will not wait."

Anakin conceded the point without argument. Perhaps the Jedi lacked inspiration. He had found his in Padmé's velvet brown eyes. As long as she stood by him he could deal with whatever came his way. One nagging thought tugged at him.

"Where is Master Obi-Wan? He usually debriefs with me."

"Sent your Master on an errand, we have." Yoda replied vaguely. "Now, off with you! Meditate you must."

Anakin nodded, giving a wry grin. It was true that he was long overdue for meditation and he wanted to be as centered as possible when he took Padmé back to Naboo several days from now. He had some serious questions to ask her. Questions about their future.

His dark cloak flared dramatically as he turned a graceful full circle, bowing respectfully to each and every council member. As he strode out he felt almost …happy for the first time in many days. Perhaps the future wasn't as bleak as everyone thought.

* * *


	4. An AntiLove Letter

CHAPTER III

An Anti-Love Letter

Dormé strode through the bustling corridors of the Senate docking ring, a tiny scroll held firmly in her right hand, her mind on the time. The Senator's vessel was due to take off soon; a small contingent from Naboo was already assembled at the docking bay. A few minutes ago, Senator Amidala had palmed to Dormé a carefully sealed scroll with the quiet instruction, "please see that this gets to Padawan Skywalker."

So, tiered headdress heavy on her neck and shoulders, the handmaiden was now making her reluctant but quick way towards the Jedi Temple. The Senator would have done better to send her droid on this errand - Dormé had a strong suspicion that being the bearer of this epistle would not endear her to Padawan Skywalker. But she had no choice but to obey her mistress.

Absorbed in dismal thoughts, she almost ran headlong into Padawan Barriss Offee. Dormé recognized the exotically beautiful tattooed face of the Mirialan immediately.

"Excuse me," Dormé quickly apologized. "I was not watching..."

"Think nothing of it," the Jedi replied. She gave Dormé an inquisitive look. "You are handmaiden to Senator Amidala, are you not?"

The two had met briefly when Dormé accompanied her mistress to visit Anakin Skywalker in the Temple's Healing Wards although Dormé had hardly expected the busy Jedi Healer to recollect a handmaiden.

"Yes, I am," Dormé said, pleased. She suddenly saw an opportunity. "In fact, I'm on my way to the Temple to deliver a message from the Senator to Padawan Skywalker."

"Anakin? What a coincidence. I was just on my way to check on him. I can deliver your message for you if you would like?" Padawan Offee offered.

Dormé did not think twice about trusting the matter to a Jedi. "If you would be so kind," she replied quickly, fervently relieved, not only at hastening her mission but at avoiding it entirely.

She handed the Padawan the scroll, bowed and, feeling supremely lighter, started making her way back to the docking rig.

* * *

Curious.

The Senator's handmaiden was not headed in the direction of the Senate offices, but towards the docking rig. Barriss looked down at the scrolled parchment in her hand. It did not bear the seal of Naboo like she would have expected, but a more peculiar emblem, probably the Senator's personal seal. The parchment itself felt strange in more ways than in its physical texture; it gave Barriss an inexplicable feeling of apprehension about seeing Anakin again. She examined her thoughts but could not pin-point the cause of anxiety clearly. Pushing them away and the scroll into her robes, she continued to the Temple.

Anakin was not in his quarters. Barriss sensed that before she reached his door. Had he forgotten that he was discharged from the Healing centre and gone there instead? Somehow, Barriss doubted that. Perhaps he was meditating - or training with Master Obi-Wan. The latter thought made her frown. She had decided to head towards the training rooms when she did sense him. She turned to see Anakin walking down the hall towards her.

"Hello, Barriss," he called cheerfully.

He was in a pleasant mood, for once.

"Anakin, I was just looking for you," she called.

Anakin gave her a half smile. "Came to make sure my arm hasn't fallen off yet?"

"Something like that." She smiled back.

They entered the quarters he shared with Master Obi-Wan; Anakin unceremoniously threw himself on his sleeping mat. In the corner of the room, a rusty-plated protocol droid stood, or rather slumped. It appeared to be deactivated.

"It's fine. It's taking awhile to get used to," he admitted. "I'll have to start lightsaber training soon."

"Not for a few days," Barriss warned, turning her eyes - and curiosity - away from the decrepit-looking machine. "You can meditate until then."

Anakin rolled his eyes, but complied and took off his outer tunic so she could get a good look at the attachment point. There was no infection but the purple and green bruises remained. She had a suspicion that it hurt more than he was letting on. She used the Force to give him a burst of pain relief. He winced as her hand touched him, but the ache gradually faded. Still, it was merely physical relief; the emotional scars would take longer to heal. Anakin had become surprisingly good at hiding his feelings as of late, but the young healer could still tell that he had barely begun to deal with that aspect. It was worrisome.

"You'll need to stop by the Healing ward for a bacta treatment tomorrow." It was more an order than a suggestion.

"I know, I won't forget." He sighed.

"I'm not concerned about you forgetting."

"Well if you're not concerned, why are you reminding me now? As a matter of fact if you're not concerned enough to remind me now, how will I remember to come?" He raised an eyebrow.

When he got into these circular conversations he was impossible to deal with.

"Oh, Anakin just come! It won't kill you, in fact it might make you feel better," she teasingly replied.

He grinned. "Alright, I suppose I_ could_ use some bacta."

"Good." She was turning to leave when she remembered the handmaiden and the letter. "Oh, I ran into Senator Amidala's handmaiden a few moments ago, and she bade me give you this."

Barriss produced the parchment from the folds of her robe and handed it over to Anakin. His demeanor changed instantly; his Force signature flickered with some sort of … _strange_ emotion and then he clamped down his shields violently.

All Barriss' previous suspicions were re-alerted.

"It seems to be bearing her personal seal. Why would the Senator send you a personal letter?" she asked, her mild tone rendered useless by the avid curiosity she knew was on her face.

"I have no idea, but if you'll excuse me…" Jumping to his feet, Anakin escorted her out of his quarters, all but using the Force to push her out into the hallway.

"Tomorrow, don't forget," Barriss managed to say just before the door slid shut in her face.

She stared at it, perplexed. She, like practically all the Jedi, knew that Anakin and Senator Amidala had become good friends during his assignment with her. That there was something more suspicious between them did not need a Jedi to figure that out. And now this letter…

In spite of herself, Barriss was worried about her friend.

* * *

Leaning for support against the hard durasteel door, sweat beading up his forehead, Anakin held the scroll, the first contact he had had with Padmé since Geonosis, with trembling hands. 

Why would she have written him a letter? Where was she? Why hadn't she sent for him? Why hadn't she contacted him sooner?

Equal amounts of fear and anticipation gripped him and he almost ripped through the parchment in his haste to break the seal. He unrolled the scroll and the faintest scent of her perfume filled the air. His knees weakened.

Anakin,

At the sight of his name printed in Padmé's delicate handwriting, his knees gave way completely and he collapsed onto the floor in longing.

* * *

Anakin,

As you are reading this I am traveling back to Naboo. You have no idea how hard this is for me, but it must be done. We can't do this Anakin, and we both know it. I have no words for how much it hurts me. I treasure our time together on Naboo, but it leaves me with a terrible feeling of foreboding. My words were said in honesty, but I did not understand their implication. I thought we were about to lose our lives. And a part of me did die that day, as part of me was brought to life.

Since you first walked into my chambers with Master Kenobi I knew somehow that I would be forever changed. Maybe it was the Force, maybe it was my heart- but it wasn't my head. I was overwhelmed by many things, at first, admittedly, it was your beauty. Thinking back on it I realize that I should have been able to tell at ten years old. Because you are beautiful Ani, inside and out. On our first day at the Lake Retreat I looked into your eyes and was lost... I thought I had pulled away successfully, but I never did, not until now. But I was scared; these were emotions I have never dealt with, even at twenty-four. Our first night together I offered to become bait for the assassin, I suppose to test your abilities. For that I'm sorry, but they were proven when you leapt onto my bed and so deftly killed those creatures. And so it began. I lectured you in my quarters because I was so distracted I did not know what else to do. I berated you in front of the Queen and security because I was afraid. I let myself fall because I didn't know any better. I understood the words I was saying, but not their true meaning. I'm telling you this now because I fear I might never have the chance again.

One of the most perfect and happy memories I possess is of our picnic in the meadow. I'll always remember your excitement at helping Teckla pack our lunch and the subsequent race to the countryside. It left me time to slowly follow and think. Maybe I just think too much. It was a beautiful day. When you jumped on top of that shaak like a child to impress me, I laughed like I haven't been able to do in a long time. When you fell off I was truly frightened. I'm still angry at you for that. But I see why you did it, as we rolled down the hill together I understood. In those few seconds I experienced a freedom I never had before. The freedom to be young, and to gaze into the eyes of someone who truly cares for you... If only the galaxy could just vanish and leave us there forever, but it can't. I've accepted that now, you must as well.

The night where you confessed your feelings I was surprised, even though I knew them to be true already. I was surprised that you could be so bold, although I can't think why: you are always outspoken when it comes to your feelings. We come from similar situations, neither being able to get close enough to anyone to... feel that connection. I suddenly realized how vulnerable I was and panicked. But I did feel the same way, Anakin; I want you to know that. However, the words I said proved true. After you turned your back on me I went to my suite and wept for hours. In my misery I resolved to tell you the truth. I came to your room before my logical brain could change my heart. I heard your nightmare through the door and rushed in. You did not wake. You cried out for your mother, and for me. I was too scared to disturb you so I whispered into your ear an ancient Naboo saying in the sacred language:

Sleep my beloved. The light will soon awaken thee.

I thought perhaps these unfamiliar feelings would vanish as we traveled to Tatooine, but it was too late for me. I was foolish, I should have known better. I was too afraid to tell you. I nearly did the night you came back... with your mother. I was miserable while you were gone. Beru tried to comfort me, she is a wonderful woman. But there was nothing for it. I thought you were going to die, and that tore me up inside. I felt the death of your mother keenly, I'm so sorry Anakin, nothing can ever express how sorry I am. It hurt me because it hurt you. I was not used to that kind of emotional connection with anyone except my own family. And my family... they really like you and they are desperate for me to be happy. My mother and sister knew- knew before I did. You will always be welcome in our home. While you were gone, the Lars' tried to make me feel welcome in their home. They are wonderful people, I'm sure she was happy with them. Beru was like a sister to me in those long hours. I wept for you and for myself. For as long as I can remember I have been a target of assassination, but I have never been so frightened in my life. You could have died and I would never be able to tell you... When you returned safely there was nothing in the galaxy I wanted to do more than to throw my arms around you and never let go. Thinking back on it now, I'm sure you could feel it through the Force. But the second I saw the look on your face I knew something terrible had happened to Shmi. I felt... intensity... radiating from you. It broke my heart. But gods how I wanted to protect you. When you told me what happened in the Tusken village I was horrified, it went against everything I believed in. But all I could see was you in pain. The grief in your heart and the regret on your face was everything to me. I am completely sympathetic to what you went through Anakin, believe that, but it wasn't right. You need to tell the Council, I hope that you have already. It is the right thing to do. And it makes me realize just why we cannot go on like this.

After we left Tatooine things happened so quickly. I realized now that I should not have forced you to leave against Master Windu's orders. I will speak to him about it should an inquiry arise. We survived the factory only to be captured and sent to Count Dooku. I knew he was behind it from the beginning even though the Jedi did not believe me. Just because he is a former Jedi does not mean he isn't capable of terrible acts of violence and deceit. But however it happened we found ourselves ready to be executed. It was the first time I really had the chance to confess, and it may have been the last. The words just spilled from my lips, and it was exactly what you wanted to hear. But we did not die that day. We were tested again as I fell from the transport ship and you battled Dooku. Somehow I knew where you were and told a clonetrooper to take me. I don't know how, Obi-Wan would say I could feel you through the Force. But it was too late by the time we reached you. I saw you lying on the ground and thought you were dead. I ran, without caring that Masters Obi-Wan and Yoda were watching. You were not dead Ani, but neither were you whole. Count Dooku robbed you of not just your arm, but your pride. I know you well enough to see that.

They took you away immediately. I was not able to visit you until a few days ago. It was hard to see you, so strong and fearless, lying unconscious in that narrow cot. Could you tell I was there? Barriss Offee was in charge of reinforcing your healing trance, metal fusing with skin and bone. She said you might be able to feel my thoughts through the Force. When she told me, I suddenly became conscious of the little feelings in the back of my mind, the ones I had pushed back during our time together. They were doubt, and fear. I left, not wanting to impede your progress with negativity. The more I thought about it, the more I came to believe what I already knew. My words on Naboo were true.

This secret will destroy our lives.

It just is not possible. I'm a high-profile Senator. You are a Jedi, Anakin. It is what you have chosen for yourself. I know your history. The Jedi mean too much to you, and you mean too much to them. I cannot come between that. The Jedi are forbidden to love, I would be a party to violating one of your core mandates. And you must realize that what we had is trivial compared to your life's work. Neither can this be turned into some meaningless fling, because it would be far from meaningless. That would truly destroy us, no matter how I may long for you. The most logical choice is to end it now Anakin. I am so sorry, but it's the only way. I will always consider you a cherished friend.

Please accept my answer and my apology.

Padmé

* * *

The thick paper crumpled in his good hand. For several moments there was no thought, there was nothing. His simple room had vanished, as had the Jedi Temple and all of Coruscant itself. Anakin was utterly alone. Then sensation rushed in. The Force was like an army of insects on his skin, in his soul, pricking his heart and bleeding it, whispering her cruel words and turning them into reality. _No_. It couldn't be true; this had to be some elaborate joke. He wanted to run to the dock that held her ship, but found he couldn't move. He started at the letter until the writing became blurry and unintelligible. Tears were welling up, threatening to spill. He thought he might drown in them. Numbly he wondered how he deserved this. 

"We can't do this."

We can't do this? We both know it?

Anakin had seen the words but he could not understand their meaning. How could he? How could _she_? How could she say such things?

There was a dull pain in his left hand. He opened his palm and the expensive parchment, now blood-stained and soggy, fell out. His fingernails had cut into the skin. Anakin blinked twice slowly, trying to see if the blood was real or a figment of his imagination. It was real. He stared at the wound for several moments, wishing the pain was more intense. It had the effect of bringing his mind slowly back to the present. Roughly, he wiped his palm on his tunic, leaving a visible stain. Obi-Wan would not be pleased.

But what did Obi-Wan matter now? What did anything? Padmé was his. _She was his._ They belonged together. Anakin had known that since first laying eyes on her ten years ago. Why didn't she see that?

The failures of the last few weeks threatened to press the air completely out of his chest: Tatooine… Geonosis… the loss of his mother… the loss of his arm. Anakin tried to channel his frustration to the invading metallic limb. He punched the ground with it, the vibration bringing back the pain Barriss tried to alleviate. No wonder Padmé changed her mind; he wasn't even a good Jedi, let alone a proper suitor.

If only I hadn't charged Dooku. If only I could have made Obi-Wan land for Padmé. If only she hadn't talked me into going to Geonosis.

But he could not blame her; it was his failure, not hers. The frustration Anakin felt was now suffocating him.

I will not fail again!

Several tools that had been lying on his desk suddenly lifted off and flew at the wall. With a crash they smashed into it and fell to the floor. Anakin turned blank eyes toward the noise, hardly registering what he had done. Gradually, he was accepting the anger welling up inside him.

She loves me. She will not get away so easily.

He was still on the floor, slumped against the doorway when he gradually fell into an exhausted sleep, oblivious to the tears streaming down his face.

* * *


	5. Friends and Foes

CHAPTER IV

Friends and Foes

Some time in the middle of the night Anakin awoke on the cold floor only to have Padmé's dismissive words come flooding back to him. Pain and panic warred for control and for those first few moments he wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and hide. His soul felt dark and cold, like deep space itself; as if Padmé had gone and taken his only source of light with her.

Padmé's letter lay crumpled and bloodstained beside him. He reached for it, smoothing it out over his leg. His injured palm protested the contact with the paper but he resolutely ignored its sting. Stoically he folded the missive and slid it into the space between his tunic and undershirt. He didn't need to read it again. The words were engraved on his heart.

A letter. Padmé had pushed him away with a letter. There could be only one reason for that. She was afraid to see him; afraid she wouldn't be able to maintain her resolve face to face. And she wouldn't have been, Anakin thought bitterly. Padmé loved him. That much was clear. He wasn't going to let her cheat them out of a future together no matter how she tried to justify it.

Anakin stood with substantial effort, knowing he had to do something. He considered waking Obi-Wan, but that would mean a dozen questions he wasn't ready to answer - questions about why he was upset, about Tatooine, about Geonosis, about Padmé. No, Obi-Wan would not understand. For his master the choice between love and duty was black and white. What he needed was a neutral ear, someone who wasn't a Jedi, who could reassure him without asking too many questions. Only one person came to mind. He rushed to the com-link and placed a coded transmission to Chancellor Palpatine's office.

The Chancellor's sound advice and soothing demeanor had calmed him many times in the past. Palpatine never pressed for details of a situation, but he always managed to find something encouraging to say. Anakin drummed his fingers impatiently while the com-link buzzed over and over. His eyes fell to the chrono on the table and a wave of disappointment melted over him. Of course there would be no answer, not considering the lateness of the hour. He settled for leaving a brief message then turned to pace the dim living area.

He almost tripped over something on the ground and he looked down. It was a hydro-spanner. Looking around, he noticed that there were many tools scattered on the floor. He remembered now his earlier rage and how he had lost control. A couple of tools had even bounced against Threepio and the deactivated droid now lay on his back, his eternally open eyes looking uncannily startled. Guiltily, Anakin lifted Threepio back into a standing position, frowning as he did so. He had not yet decided what to do with Threepio. He had thought that Padmé -

Another storm of pain hit him.

He picked up the tools with trembling hands and returned them to their place on the set of shelves and there he paused momentarily. There, amidst numerous mementos of his childhood at the temple, sat a small rock. He picked it up, rubbing his fingers over the smooth warm surface. Obi-Wan had given him the river stone on the first anniversary of the day they'd become Master and Padawan. He'd called it his dearest possession. Anakin remembered listening intently as Obi-Wan told the story of receiving the rock from his own Master in celebration of the bond he'd shared with Qui-Gon. In a way it had made Anakin feel less lost; more connected to the Jedi around him. Almost as if he had family.

It suddenly occurred to him that discounting his Master's input before Obi-Wan had a chance to give it wasn't fair. After all, they had grown closer in recent years, ever since he'd taken Obi-Wan into his confidence following the mission on Vanquor. That had been a real turning point in their relationship - a point at which Anakin felt they'd truly come to accept one another as Master and Padawan.

Of course he couldn't talk about Padmé. Not yet, anyway. Obi-Wan would never support a relationship that so openly defied the Jedi Code. He winced. The thought of Padmé hurting, returning to Naboo, perhaps eventually finding solace from someone else, was intolerable. He would find a way to see her, especially now that he knew she truly did care for him. They were meant to be together and he would not give up. Patience, as the Chancellor so often said, was the key to achieving any goal. He could be patient where Padmé was concerned, at least for a little while.

Perhaps he could get his master's point of view about the other recent events: his mother's death, the aftermath on Tatooine, his defiance on Geonosis and even his ultimate defeat by Count Dooku. Sorting through all that confusion was bound to help him put things in perspective. If he could just get his chaotic thoughts back on an even keel he was sure his path with Padmé would seem clearer as well. He placed the rock back on the shelf.

That's what he would do. He would talk to Obi-Wan in the morning. The anxiety he'd felt earlier wasn't gone, nor was the pain he'd felt at Padmé's dismissal, but both had subsided to a bearable level. After settling on his plan of action Anakin headed for bed, sliding between the sheets to catch whatever sleep he could before Obi-Wan came to wake him for morning meditation.

The familiar knock at daybreak never came. He awakened quite surprised to find sunlight streaming in the transparisteel pane above his bed. A cursory search of their shared quarters showed his master nowhere to be found.

He showered quickly before dressing and taking off for the exercise room. This time of the morning Obi-Wan would most likely be sparring with his good friend Master Siri Tachi. Siri was a rather unorthodox Jedi and Anakin liked her. She was one of few Jedi who seemed to share his love of risk taking. That she also appreciated tormenting Obi-Wan was just an added bonus.

Upon entering the training hall Anakin was disappointed to find neither Obi-Wan nor Siri among the many Jedi engaged in exercises around the room. He scanned the balcony as just to be sure, but saw only a handful of younglings gathered to watch the training below.

One solitary Padawan on a back corner mat caught Anakin's eye. Ferus Olin, Siri's apprentice, was working saber defense against a trio of hovering remotes.

Ferus was a classic overachiever who excelled at everything. Unfortunately no one was more aware of that fact than Ferus himself. Annoying as it was, though, it wasn't the older boy's prowess, confidence or intelligence that irritated Anakin most. It was simply that Ferus never put a foot wrong while he, Anakin, could never seem to put one right.

Ah well. Right now Ferus was his best hope for finding Obi-Wan, so he swallowed his pride and strode purposefully through the busy training room.

It was only as he drew closer that he noticed the dark band of cloth tied over Ferus's eyes. No surprise there. Practicing blind was probably just another way to show off in front of the younglings and Padawans. The remotes spun around firing quick low-level energy blasts. Ferus repelled them effortlessly using brisk, efficient strokes of his lightsaber.

Anakin was watching so intently that he almost tripped over the basket of extra remotes sitting next to the mat on the floor. Suddenly an idea occurred to him and he couldn't suppress the grin that lit his face.

Careful not to use the Force and alert Ferus to his presence Anakin leaned down and grabbed three more remotes from the basket. Flicking them into active mode he tossed them lightly towards the blindfolded Padawan.

The younglings watching from the balcony broke into peals of laughter. Ferus paused when he heard the sound but dropped quickly back into stance as the remotes continued their attack. The three newly activated spheres were quick to join in and the number of blasts escalated markedly.

Ferus did well, Anakin conceded. He blocked fire from all six for almost a full minute before taking a shot to the thigh. The sting must've broken his concentration because he missed several successive blasts, yelping in pain as a bolt clipped him on the shoulder.

Not one to easily accept defeat, it came as no surprise to Anakin when Ferus turned off his lightsaber and swept the mask off his face. The remotes sensed the deactivation of the weapon, disengaging instantly and dropping powerless to the mat. In a glance Ferus took in the extra remotes, correctly reading the smirk Anakin tried valiantly to hide.

"Very funny Skywalker." Of course, Ferus sounded more resigned than upset. Probably, Anakin thought wryly, because anger wasn't a Jedi trait. Outwardly he appeared calm, but his flashing eyes and the tense way he ran a hand through his gold-streaked sable hair told a different story.

The giggling from the balcony grew louder with the comment. Ferus shot the younglings a stern look and all sounds of amusement ceased. The little faces leaning over the rail vanished, followed in short order by the retreating patter of small booted feet.

"Has anyone ever told you" the older Jedi bit off to Anakin as he clipped his saber to his belt and removed his fighting gloves "that you that you are beyond annoying?"

"I think just about everyone at one time or another." Anakin shot back, frowning as he realized the truth of what he'd just said.

Ferus picked up the remotes and dumped them into the basket before moving to stand in front of Anakin. "Is there some reason you're gracing me with your presence? Perhaps you're already bored now that your master is off-world?"

"Off-world?" Anakin regretted the words as soon as he uttered them. He'd instantly given Ferus an upper hand, an advantage he didn't need. Siri's Padawan was an expert at seeing and exploiting Anakin's vulnerabilities. He was bound to capitalize on the idea that he wouldn't know his own master's whereabouts.

"Sorry, Skywalker. I just assumed you knew." How odd. Ferus hadn't taken the bait. In fact, he sounded sincere and for some reason that irritated Anakin even more. People were tiptoeing around him constantly these days, treating him as if he were made of glass. It made him want to break something.

He fought the urge to just turn and leave, knowing he shouldn't until he found out where his Master was. It was obvious that Ferus had the information. He just needed to figure out the best way to get it.

"I haven't seen Obi-Wan since yesterday morning." Anakin let his words hang expectantly, hoping Ferus would fill in the blanks.

"Well," Ferus replied slowly, picking his cloak up off the floor, "when he came by our quarters yesterday afternoon he told Siri that he was escorting a Senator home. I think he said he was going to Naboo."

"Naboo?" Anakin asked incredulously. Amidala was Senator of Naboo. Why would Obi-Wan be taking her home? Unless Obi-Wan had some part in convincing her to write that letter - in convincing her to leave before he could talk to her… The anger he'd managed to bury since last night boiled to life again.

"Wasn't Naboo's Senator the one you were assigned to protect back before Geonosis?" Ferus was digging now, intrigued, as usual, by things that didn't add up.

"Yes. I was assigned to protect Senator Amidala." Anakin's tone had become icy and clipped.

"Strange they didn't send you with her. I thought the two of you were friends since before you came to the Temple." Ferus must've noticed the stormy expression on Anakin's face because he changed his tactic. As usual, his effort to console took on a patronizing note. "Don't worry Skywalker, I'm sure the Council just thought you could use some extra recovery time. You know, considering your arm and all."

Anakin felt hot fury wash over him. Of course Ferus wouldn't miss the opportunity to mention his mistakes on Geonosis or the high price he'd paid. Far be it from the perfect Padawan to leave well enough alone.

"My arm and my business with Senator Amidala are none of your affair." Anakin growled through clenched teeth. He fixed his rival with a piercing glare.

Ferus bristled at Anakin's dismissive tone, his own manner becoming condescending. "Of course, Skywalker. Just like nothing that concerns you is anybody's business but yours. Your mistakes, they affect us all, but Force help us if we dare to mention them or point that fact out to you."

Anakin was in no mood for a dressing down. Without thinking, he raised his palm towards the other man and all the pain and frustration he'd struggled to suppress since reading Padmé's letter exploded from him through the Force.

Unprepared for a physical attack, the shove sent Ferus flying backwards. He stumbled into the rack of training sabers on the far wall.

A hush descended over the room as all eyes turned to watch the two most gifted Padawans in the Temple. Anakin felt the censure in each gaze. He saw the shock on Ferus's face and knew it would be mirrored in every other expression around the room. He was feeling a little stunned by the strength of his own reaction as well. Stunned, but not apologetic. Ferus's insightful speculation about Padmé was the last thing he needed.

Ferus recovered quickly, using one hand to grasp the weapon rack and pull himself upright. He cautiously walked back to where Anakin stood.

Anakin cut him off before he could speak; his voice low and resonating with command. "Stay out of my business, Olin!" Blue eyes challenged gold in silence, but Ferus said nothing. Instead he folded his arms across his chest and subjected Anakin to close and thoughtful scrutiny. The silence dragged out a full minute before Anakin spun suddenly and left. Every eye in the hall watched him go.

* * *

Supreme Chancellor Palpatine sat comfortably in his office chair, his back to the huge desk where he conducted the business of the Republic.

To a neutral observer it would appear he was absorbed in what was going on outside his window. As if he were merely snatching a rare moment of relaxation watching the endless ebb and flow of the Coruscant traffic lanes. That same casual observer would miss the thinly veiled aura of excitement that hovered in the air around him, the barest hint of a smile that pulled at the corners of his lips.

This morning he was anticipating a visit from Padawan Anakin Skywalker.

The boy had left an urgent com-link message late last night. The chancellor knew the exactly time because he'd been here when the transmission came in. Anakin's anxious tone and disjointed explanation made it clear he was extremely upset. Though he hadn't made much sense one thing was clear. He wanted an audience with Palpatine as soon as possible.

For a few brief moments it had been tempting to call the boy back despite the lateness of the hour. Then reason reasserted itself. Much could be said for allowing a situation to ripen and there were definite benefits to keeping Anakin gridlocked. Whatever problem the boy faced would only appear more desperate the longer he was forced to wait. That meant Palpatine's help, when it came, would seem all the more fortuitous.

This morning he'd fished around for a bit more information to see if he could uncover the cause of Anakin's anxiety. The only new development he found was a rumor that the Jedi Council had sent Master Kenobi to Naboo with Senator Amidala. Well, now, that was problematic. He remembered specifically telling the young Senator to wait for a Jedi to escort her home, but he'd had Anakin in mind for the task. Believing her departure was several days hence, he'd even mentioned the assignment to Master Yoda. It had been approved without question.

Anakin admired Amidala. That was no secret. The boy had told him so many times over the years. When Palpatine had visited Anakin in the med-ward only a few days ago he made a point of telling him about the assignment. Anakin had brightened instantly. Palpatine had the distinct impression that Anakin's feelings for the young woman might have grown into something more than simple admiration during their recent time together. If one factored in Amidala's own lonely existence the possibility seemed even more likely.

Still, it was probably best to speak to Anakin before assuming too much. There were numerous other things that could upset him to such an extent.

Visions from Tatooine flashed through Palpatine's mind in gray shadows. He could see the events from the Tusken camp as if he'd lived them himself. Anakin holding the body of Shmi Skywalker as life ebbed from her body. The pathetic echoes of the love of a son for his mother. The ripples of Anakin's anger as it shook the very foundations of the Force. Indeed, the boy's hatred had been strong in those moments. Living it had been ecstasy.

Palpatine steepled his fingers under his chin thoughtfully. Yes, Tatooine had been a veritable deluge of pain - monumental enough for the spirit of the dead Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn to cry out at the boy's darkest moment.

The irony of the whole situation was that Palpatine had long been seeking some means of introducing Anakin to the awesome potential of his own anger. He was forced to admit that he couldn't have come up with a better means. It almost made him wish he'd planned the tragedy himself.

Now that Anakin had tasted the blackness of vengeance come full-circle, Palpatine knew the memory of it would eat him alive. Such was the way of the dark side of the Force. The omnipotence of it offered an illusory control that could calm even the darkest fears, and Anakin had some very dark fears. They would slowly but surely draw him away from any support the Jedi Order could offer. Even the venerable Obi-Wan had no chance of understanding or helping.

No doubt even Master Yoda couldn't comprehend the magnitude of the changes wrought in Skywalker's young heart. Palpatine knew and understood. He even felt a moment of pity for the feeble Jedi Order. Their destruction was certain and they'd honed the weapon of their own falling. The only variable now was the means by which Skywalker would bring it about.

An electronic call from the desk behind him pulled him from his reverie. He spun his chair around slowly and leaned forward to press the response button.

"Yes?"

His aide replied quickly. "Chancellor, Anakin Skywalker is here to see you."

"Excellent, send him in." He carefully schooled his expression into a welcoming mask, giving a broad smile as Anakin came in.

Usually the boy entered his office confidently, as if he took pride in radiating Jedi-like maturity. Today there was no hint of that composure. His jaw was tense, his mouth set in a grim line. A frown cut furrows between anger-slanted stormy blue eyes. The boy was seething wrath and frustration.

It was a beautiful sight.

Palpatine allowed his own features to melt into a façade of surprised concern.

"Anakin," he began softly, "whatever is the matter?"

"Everything!" Anakin exclaimed as he stalked back and forth behind the chairs facing the Chancellor's large desk. "The mission - the one we spoke of where I would deliver Padmé back to Naboo - Obi-Wan took her instead!" He stopped pacing and turned to face Palpatine. "Why would he do that? I thought he trusted me? And he didn't even tell me himself. I had to find out from Ferus Olin!"

Had the Chancellor been ignorant of the rivalry between the two Padawans - which he was not - Anakin's distaste for the older boy would have been obvious anyway from the way he spat out the name.

The seasoned diplomat carefully kept his features neutral and offered no reply. In this frame of mind, if Anakin wasn't distracted he might offer all manner of insights. Palpatine wasn't disappointed.

"Obi-Wan went to Padmé. I know it! He somehow found a way to convince her to leave without speaking to me!" Anakin stalked to the window, glaring out with unseeing eyes.

"Anakin, I'm afraid you've lost me." Palpatine leaned forward at his desk, keeping his voice bland. "What interest could Obi-Wan possibly have in keeping you from Senator Amidala?"

"She loves me!" The three simple words spilled out of Anakin in a rush.

As soon as the words were uttered Palpatine felt Anakin's shock. Obviously the boy hadn't meant to make that little revelation. A ghost of a smile flashed across Palpatine's face.

"She…loves…you?" He strove to sound as if the concept of a Senator falling in love with a Jedi was totally incomprehensible to him. Perhaps quiet incredulity would entice Anakin to elaborate.

"She does." The confession was fervent, angry, frustrated. "And I love her."

Anakin didn't volunteer more. He didn't have to. In his role as Supreme Chancellor, Palpatine was required to know the Jedi Code; he already knew what was forbidden.

"And your Master knows this?" He prodded gently.

"I didn't think so, but now I don't know." Anakin turned and came back to the desk. "Why else would he have taken her back to Naboo when I was assigned to do it?" His voice shook, angry and hurt at the same time. "Why else would she have sent me this letter?" He took a folded document out of his tunic and thrust it forward with trembling fingers.

Palpatine took the page, noting with satisfaction the wrinkled surface and dark stains that could only be blood. Murmuring contemplatively he quickly scanned the handwritten words. Less important than what they actually said were the strong impressions he felt through the Force. Traces of anger and agony from both the author and the recipient. Wicked glee coursed through him and he squashed the feeling with some effort.

Anakin was continuing his tirade, his anguish becoming more evident with each word. "She said she loves me! I know that hasn't changed! I just need to see her, talk to her!"

He strode back to the window, pacing in front of it before stopping to stare down at the traffic.

Palpatine finished the letter and rose, walking over behind Anakin. He could see the boy's face reflected in the transparisteel and rejoiced inside at the utter despair reflected there.

If circumstances were different he might have placed a consoling hand on the boy's shoulder. As it was, he knew he didn't dare. Avoiding physical contact with all Jedi was essential to his ability to cloak his true nature and his intentions. The intimacy of touch could easily endanger that veil - especially with a Jedi as powerful and Force-sensitive as young Skywalker.

"Chancellor, you've got to help me! I need to speak to Padmé before it's too late!"

Ah, there it was. The plea for help.

Palpatine turned back towards the desk. "Come sit down Anakin." He kept his voice calm, passive, but with the stern suggestion of authority. As much as Anakin wanted to control his own circumstances, the boy craved an authority figure. One he could respect and take pride in serving. What a pity for Kenobi and the rest of the Jedi that they failed to recognize that need. He patted the back of a nearby chair, encouraging Anakin to sit. "You should know by now that solutions only present themselves to the calm, rational mind."

Anakin's shoulders rose and fell in a dramatic sigh, but he did as Palpatine asked, sinking dutifully into the chair closest to the panoramic window. Despite his obedience his expression remained sullen, almost rebellious. He kept his eyes locked on the Coruscant skyline.

Palpatine moved behind his desk, but instead of sitting he pulled out a drawer and extracted a small coded card.

"Anakin, you know you shouldn't leave the temple."

"Yes, I know." Came the caustic reply

"As Supreme Chancellor I certainly can't hand you the means to travel to Naboo. However, if you were to find a way off-world on your own… For example, if an activation key to a diplomatic shuttle was left lying around somewhere…"

Anakin's eyes snapped up to meet Palpatine's as the Chancellor placed the thin yellow card on the corner of his desk.

"Have you ever heard the expression 'it is easier to ask forgiveness than permission'?"

Anakin shook his head, his incredulousness obvious. Palpatine continued in the same calm, soothing tone.

"Though I can't give you dispensation to go I might be of some use convincing the council to grant you leniency once you return. After all, you've been through a great deal recently. It would only be natural that you might make some irrational choices. Just between you and I, though, I'd keep your reasons for going as vague as possible - especially the part about falling in love. As I'm sure you're aware, the Jedi take a very dim view of that kind of thing."

The Chancellor deliberately turned his back on all of it; the Padawan, the desk and key card. He could feel Anakin staring at it - sense the indecision tinged with disbelief at his good fortune. In a split second he felt the boy push all hesitancy from his mind. Relief flooded in to fill the empty place. He rose to his feet and Palpatine heard the soft click as he picked up the card.

"Thank you, sir, for all your help." Anakin's voice had lost its bitter edge, ringing once again with his usual sincerity. "Your support is more appreciated than I can say."

"Nonsense Anakin. I have the utmost confidence in your ability to make the right choices about your own life. I find it strange that the Jedi do not." Palpatine gazed down at the traffic lanes, hiding the hint of a smile that once more curved his lips. "Now, off with you!"

Not one to wait around for fortune to change, Anakin left.

* * *


	6. Developments

**CHAPTER V**

**Developments**

Barriss's chrono alarm buzzed an insistent reminder of the time as she abandoned her search and hurried through the corridors of the Coruscant political office buildings towards the Senate Council Chamber.

She was on the verge of being late for a meeting of the Loyalist Committee and Jedi Council and was reluctantly forced to admit that she didn't have any more time to devote to finding Anakin. Master Windu had said he was to attend this meeting as well, but she couldn't seem to locate him. What concerned Barriss most was that she couldn't sense Anakin's presence through the Force at all. It was almost as if he wasn't even on Coruscant.

She turned the corner and found herself in the vestibule of the ornate meeting room. Politicians and Jedi alike were milling around waiting to go inside. She spotted Masters Yoda and Windu where they stood a little apart from the crowd, grave expressions on their faces as they listened to Ferus Olin. Barriss went directly to them.

Ferus fell silent before she reached them. Master Windu took one look at her and said without preamble, "you could not find him."

"No, Master," Barriss said, slanting a curious glance at Ferus' composed face. She had a good idea what he was talking to the Jedi Masters about – a small rumor about an encounter between him and Anakin that morning in the training hall had been passed around in the Temple all day – but she had no idea what Ferus was doing here.

Master Yoda's ears had drooped at her reply and his moss-colored eyes were crinkled with worry. He opened his mouth to speak when (just as a) delicate chime sounded. All those present were being called into the meeting. Without another word, he and Master Windu started walking towards the open double doors. Barriss followed behind along with the rest of the Council members and the Senators.

Supreme Chancellor Palpatine was seated at the head seat of a large round table that dominated the room. Members of the Loyalist Committee filled in the seats to his left while the Jedi Council members filled in to the right. There were seven members of each group in attendance, which meant three Loyalist senators and five Jedi Council members unaccounted for. She wasn't familiar enough with the Loyalists to figure out who was missing, but mentally she ticked off the names of absent council members. Masters Adi Gallia, Depa Billaba, Even Piell and Oppo Rancisis must be on assignment.

Master Coleman Trebors had been killed on Geonosis.

Other Jedi had been invited and stood respectfully behind the seated Council members. At Barriss's right was Stass Allie, standing closest to the seated Master Koth. Barriss knew Master Allie well. She was Adi Gallia's cousin and one of the best healing teachers at the temple. Masters Kit Fisto and Aayla Secura, both veterans of Geonosis, stood behind Master Tinn. Over his shoulder hovered another veteran of that battle, the Zabrak Jedi Agen Kolar. He'd returned from Geonosis unharmed, but had lost his Padawan there on the arena sands. Since then his involvement in the war had been non-stop. He'd taken no time to grieve his loss and Barriss worried for him.

The presence of so many esteemed Jedi seemed to confirm the rumors that a replacement for Master Trebors was being actively sought. That explained everyone else, but Barriss was at a loss as to why she'd been invited to this meeting. With Master Luminara off on assignment she should have been relegated to studying and practicing her healing techniques.

The only other Padawan in the room was Ferus Olin. He'd followed her in and now stood just to her left. That added to the mystery. Ferus's Master was on assignment too. Come to think of it, so was Obi-Wan and Anakin was supposed to be here.

The Chancellor's aide, Sly Moore, a pale humanoid in white robes quieted the assembly before introducing the Chancellor and beginning the traditional roll call procedure.

"The Chancellor welcomes members of the Loyalist Committee: Bail Organa of Alderaan; Orn Free Taa of Ryloth; Darsana of Glee Anselm; Lexi Dio of Uyter; Ister Paddie of Sermeria; Onaconda Farr from Rodia, and our newest member, Ask Aak, from Malastare. It should be noted that Senator Aak is new to the committee, having been appointed to fill the vacancy left following the recent assassination of Senator Aks Moe. Senators Padmé Amidala, Zo Howler and Havriso Looruya are not in attendance."

The assistant turned to the Jedi Council, easily putting faces to names: "The Jedi Council is represented at this meeting by Masters Yoda, Mace Windu, Plo Koon, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Shaak Ti, Saesee Tinn and Eeth Koth."

Moore nodded to the assembly and moved to stand behind Chancellor Palpatine. The Chancellor folded his hands casually before speaking. "Welcome, my friends. I'm sorry to say that Senators Amidala, Howler and Looruya could not be with us today, but I can promise their allegiance is still to the Republic and their loyalty to this committee is unquestioned."

Senator Aak laughed derisively, drawing sidelong looks from everyone else.

"Senator?" Palpatine replied blandly, "Do you have something to add?"

The Gran from Malastare looked around the room, his three eyestalks focusing in different directions. He answered in gravelly basic. "I can't be the only member of this committee who finds Senator Amidala's stance inconsistent with her recent actions. Isn't it ironic that the leader of the opposition to the Military Creation Act was a soldier in the very first conflict? I think her actions speak louder than her words."

Senators Farr and Paddie nodded their agreement, as if the same thoughts had already occurred to them. Bail Organa remained stone faced. It was a known fact that several committee members had supported the Act itself, but Amidala had certainly been the loudest voice to oppose it. Barriss could recall her passionate speeches being broadcast on the holonet news well in advance of the vote.

The Chancellor sighed with the patience of a parent settling a sibling dispute. "Senator Aak, we are not here to question the honor or actions of other committee members, particularly those who aren't hear (here) to speak in their own defense."

Aak's eyes widened in surprise, but he said nothing. Palpatine continued.

"It has just come to our attention that Rhen Var has fallen to Separatists."

The politicians gasped, hearing the news for the first time. The Jedi, already aware of the situation, remained stoic.

"What do the Separatists want with Rhen Var?" It was Lexi Dio, a softspoken blonde woman from the world of Uyter, who voiced the question to the Chancellor. "It only has a few small colonies and has been loyal to the Republic for centuries."

"At this point we have only speculation that centers on mining the planets resources, though that isn't the best theory, given those metals are solid sheets buried beneath layers of rock and ice."

"Evacuated the colonists, have you?" Master Yoda turned his piercing gaze on Palpatine.

"We did our best, Master Yoda, but I'm afraid we lost over half the civilian population." There was silmutaenous sharp intake of breath at his words. Palpatine turned sad eyes to the Senators. "Around seven hundred surviving colonists were extracted by gunship, taken aboard the Republic Cruiser _Nimato_ and delivered safely to Alderaan."

Senator Onaconda Farr stood, fixing his solid black gaze firmly on Mace Windu. His translator made his words expressionless, but his tone and mannerisms conveyed both anger and frustration. "We lost civilians in this attack! Why aren't the Jedi playing a more active roll in this war to prevent the casualty tolls from growing even more extensive? The clone armies are effective, to be sure, but they would be even more so under Jedi command! Faster to respond and more deadly. They could prevent losses like this."

Mace Windu's gaze was coldly analytical as he replied. "Senator Farr, the Rodians are a war culture, and it is only natural that you would want the Jedi to play soldiers. The time may come when we will be forced to do that, but it won't be until we've exhausted _all_ of our alternatives."

"Alternatives?" The Rodian's oily voice resonated with more than a hint of sarcasm even as the device at his neck translated the words into a more neutral basic. "How many innocent lives must be lost before the Jedi will defend the Republic?"

There was an outbreak of murmuring then from the politicians. Barriss had to brace herself against the sudden wave of angry glares and even angrier emotions that seemed to strike the Jedi. She saw Master Yoda scan the irate politicians with a deep frown on his face.

Master Windu kept his impeccable calm, his cool gaze never wavering.

Palpatine stood then, raising his hands to both parties in supplication. In a quiet, firm voice he answered. "I assure you Senator, the Jedi are invaluable allies already. They have served the Republic for millennia and continue to do so. Even now they are placing their lives on the line in an effort to stop this war. You need not question their dedication to our cause."

It was no secret that Farr despised Palpatine and he didn't bother to disguise that animosity as he once again took his seat.

Conversation at that point turned to anticipating the next Separatist targets, but Barriss had tuned it out. She found herself replaying Palpatine's last words to the Rodian Senator.

_Even now they place their very lives on the line._

She glanced up at Ferus. He stood listening attentively, but she could tell he'd heard the same thing she had. Lines of worry had etched themselves into his forehead. Master Luminara and Master Siri were both off-world on a mission of such importance that their Padawans hadn't been allowed to go along.

With Palpatine's words, Barriss was gradually realizing that perhaps this meeting had a lot more to do with her and Ferus than she had thought.

The young Padawan watched the rest of the proceedings with unseeing eyes.

* * *


	7. Homecoming and Close Encounters

**CHAPTER VI**

**Homecoming and Close Encounters **

The official homecoming of the Senator of Naboo to the Palace at Theed was always a chaotic affair. Even this evening, when the Senator's arrival was kept on a low profile for security reasons, there was already a small crowd of heralds assembled at the Royal Hangar. Dormé fended them off like so many unwanted flies. Keeping a tight contingent of security detail around the Senator, the handmaiden led Amidala to her relatively private apartment.

Usually the apartment, located in the residential west wing of the Palace, would have been a beehive of activity: servants scurrying through and fro, depositing the Senator's luggage and arranging and re-arranging furniture, even more heralds demanding to be attended to at once, decisions needing to be made immediately. This time however, the efficient Dormé had sent word ahead and it was a serene apartment that welcomed them. The handmaiden still had to shoo off one particularly insistent envoy, one of her Majesty's handmaidens, as a matter of fact.

"The Queen insists on an appointment this evening, my lady," Dormé said ruefully to her mistress, afterwards.

She was unpacking the most essential of the Senator's personal effects and placing them the wardrobe and fresher. The rest of the unpacking would be done by servants the next day - unpacking Senator Amidala's luggage was no one man's job. The Senator in question was sitting half-dressed at the edge of the bed, studying the info-data pad that had been waiting for her on the ornate bedside stool. Beside her, Artoo was downloading a copy of the info-pad into his database.

Padmé gave a tired sigh. "Of course. When is it?"

"Not until a few hours. I managed to achieve that much."

Padmé smiled. "Thank you, Dormé. When you are finished, could you make a call to my home?"

"Of course."

Dormé gave her mistress surreptitious glances as she worked. Padmé looked a great deal better than she had a few hours ago in the Yacht, when she had suddenly collapsed into a dead faint in the middle of a speech she was dictating to a droid. Half an hour later, the in-ship EM-DEE droid had not been able to revive her. Dormé had almost broken the Senator's own mandate and fetched for Master Kenobi - she was aware that the Jedi were supposed to have healing powers - when Padmé suddenly came to, crying and shaking profoundly.

It was the second time her mistress had broken down in as many days. Dormé only prayed that whatever decision Padmé had made to cause her this much anguish was worth it.

By the time Dormé had placed the last scented bath oil in the marble hand sink by the dressing mirror, Artoo was dormant, recharging in his corner and Padmé was lying stretched on the bed, staring at the ceiling with a pensive expression on her face. When Dormé offered her the COM link, she gazed at it blankly.

"Your father," Dormé prompted.

Padmé's face brightened up a bit and she took the COM.

"Father, how are you? … Just a few minutes ago, it was a good trip. …"

Discretely, Dormé left her mistress to her privacy.

* * *

After she had spoken to her parents, Padmé spoke briefly with her sister. 

"Did you return with Anakin Skywalker?" Sola asked without preamble.

The COM link slipped from Padmé's nerveless fingers. She picked it up at once.

"Padmé?" Sola was saying.

"No, I did not."

"Now, isn't that a pity? Tell me, o virgin sister mine, during those secluded, isolated days you spent with him in the lovely Lake Retreat, did he manage to make it into your bed?"

"You are completely tactless, Sola," Padmé said in a furious whisper, holding one hand to her chest. Her heart had started pounding.

As usual, the rebuke just rolled off her incorrigible sister's back like water over a Gungan's.

"Well, did he?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but he did not."

"Not for want of trying, I'm sure. How many of your clothes did he get off before your sensible little head started shouting, 'No'?"

"Do you actually have anything to say to me that is even a smidgen appropriate or relevant?" Padmé snapped. Her face had flushed first hot then cold at her sister's callous words.

Sola laughed again. "Are you blushing, little one? You are such a dear to tease."

"I was arrested in Separatist territory and sentenced to death. I was mauled by a beast and I will bear the scars on my back for the rest of my life. I was in the middle of a battle that is just the beginning of an unprecedented galactic-wide conflict. And all you can think to ask is my imagined love life with a Jedi?"

"Imagined? Interesting. And which of us, pray tell, is doing the imagining?"

"Give Ryoo and Pooja my love," Padmé ordered through clenched teeth and terminated the link.

* * *

The last cloth was removed and the pale skin beneath exposed to the controlled atmosphere. Obi-Wan stretched out his arm gingerly and flexed it. 

"Is it functional, sir?" The EM-DEE droid asked in its low mechanized voice.

"It will serve," Obi-Wan replied wryly. "Tell the Senator I appreciate this courtesy."

The droid wheeled away. Obi-Wan rolled back his sleeve over the injury.

Captain Typho gave him a commiserating glance. "You did not have that on Coruscant, last time we met."

"Geonosis," Obi-Wan said simply.

The captain nodded as if his suspicions were confirmed and the reverential look he usually accorded the Jedi Master magnified.

The two men had worked closely together of late: first on Coruscant a few weeks ago and more recently when Obi-Wan escorted the Senator home. After a few hours on the luxurious Senatorial Yacht, a new one that had been sent in replacement of the one that was destroyed by the assassin, Obi-Wan had had serious cause to wonder how necessary his presence, or any Jedi's presence for that matter, was. The Senator had a full security complement already, effectively supervised by the Captain, who was flatteringly adhering to the instructions the Jedi had given them on Coruscant. Typho literally ran a tight ship and between that and Senator Amidala's virtual seclusion from everyone but her handmaiden, it would have been easy for Obi-Wan to be left feeling superfluous. However the Captain took pains to prevent this. He requested Obi-Wan's input frequently and kept him up to date on the goings-on of their short journey - both in matters concerning security and in what amounted to no more than gossip about the various envoys and dignitaries in the vessel. In exchange, the Jedi gave Typho a censored report on the little he knew about Amidala's actions from the moment she left Coruscant with his Padawan to her return, and more specifically, how she had ended up in the middle of the Battle of Geonosis. Although Obi-Wan thought otherwise, Captain Typho insisted that whatever decisions had led the pair to Geonosis had been made by Senator Amidala.

The two men were discussing the new security modifications Typho intended to implement in the Senator's suite when Dormé entered their small alcove.

"There you are," she said. "Senator Amidala is about to leave for her appointment with the Queen." Obi-Wan, as part of the Senator's personal security detail would be accompanying her.

Obi-Wan and Captain Typho followed the handmaiden into the spacious living room that adjoined the Senator's private bedchambers. They waited there while Dormé went inside. With a dispassionate eye, the Jedi noted the fine lines of marbled architecture and colorful tapestries and furniture that decorated the apartment, and indeed the whole of Naboo. The planet was indisputably a beautiful one, rich in art and nature, but it was also a planet that he had and would always associate with a very dark point in his life. It was the chief reason why he had always resisted Anakin's pleas to visit Naboo during the years past.

Well, Anakin had got his wish all the same.

Obi-Wan fought back another one of the occasional spasms of panic that had started attacking him a few hours earlier on board the Yacht. At that moment, standing beside Typho in the control room, he had almost been bowled over with pain that had stabbed through him along the bond he had with Anakin. The tremors had echoed and echoed through his body until he had to close himself off from his Force link with his Padawan.

Obi-Wan had no doubt that that was the moment that Anakin had realized his re-assignment. That this realization must have made, must still be making, his Padawan unhappy, was a massive understatement.

At that moment, the doors to the inner chambers slid open and Dormé then the Senator herself stepped out. Obi-Wan studied Amidala critically. She was only a little less pale than she was when he had finally seen her this evening as they embarked from the Yacht. He wondered with detached compassion if she had quite recovered from the bout of fever that her conscience had inflicted on her the day before. He was feeling some rather un-detached irritation at her and he was not inclined to use the Force to check for himself. She was an extraordinarily beautiful woman who could probably have any man her heart desired. He could not understand why she had chosen his Padawan to fixate on. Jedi or not, Obi-Wan had not quite forgiven her for that.

"Senator," he said and bowed deeply.

"Master Kenobi," she said formally. She gave a small nod to Dormé and followed her handmaiden out of the room, her robes swishing importantly on the floor.

Obi-Wan fell into step with Typho and followed behind the Senator's ever-present astromech droid.

* * *

After a restless sleep filled with dreams that she chose not to remember, Padmé woke up the next day feeling like Hell. Still, the thought of procrastinating her duties did not occur to her. Not only because cancelled appointments and turned-away emissaries multiplied with every hour spent from them - but simply because, now that she had made the most painful decision she could about her life, it was only by throwing herself into her work that she would ever find solace. 

Dormé dressed her in magnificent lavender and gold robes that had never failed in the past to make her feel cheerful (they failed that morning) and replaced the detachable back with a thin, translucent fabric of the softest silk. The wounds on her back could not yet bear anything harsher. Despondently, Padmé looked over her shoulder at the mirror as her handmaiden snapped on the numerous buttons on her full skirts, and she remembered a beautiful pink, gold and sea-colored dress that she had won only a few weeks ago. Her back had been flawless then; it was not a mirror that declared this as much as the look in the eyes of the man she had dressed up for.

She fisted her hands convulsively. She had to stop thinking of Him.

A few hours later, at her Constituency Office on Naboo, Padmé attended to the one welcome appointment she had that day: the formal leave-taking of Master Kenobi. Any unhappiness Padmé might have felt at ending an old friendship on such a strained note was more than compensated for by the relief of being free of his silently disapproving presence.

"Captain Typho will escort you to your scheduled transport. I hope you enjoyed your return to Naboo," she said when he formally presented himself at her stateroom.

"It was brief but pleasant," he replied courteously, "but like you, I will be glad when I return to my own home."

His pointed words needed no interpretation. From the vicinity of her knees came an almost querulous-sounding beep from Artoo.

"I thought the whole galaxy was the home of the Jedi," she murmured with a touch of asperity.

"Of course, my lady, but even a Jedi sees his home as the place where his duty is required first."

"And the Capital gets priority on the Jedi over lesser worlds, you mean?"

Obi-Wan gave her a rueful smile. "Perhaps, my lady, this should be a conversation for another time."

There won't be another time, she could almost see his eyes say. She inclined her head in the formal manner. "Thank you Master Kenobi for all your help in recent times." _Yes, even the ones I do not feel grateful for now._

, she could almost see his eyes say. She inclined her head in the formal manner. "Thank you Master Kenobi for all your help in recent times." 

The Jedi Master bowed low, turned on his heel and walked out of her office with long strides. He was probably as grateful to leave as she was to see him go. Captain Typho gave her a smart salute and followed. Artoo's lights flashed vindictively after them.

Padmé returned to the business of her office and the rest of her life.

* * *

The spaceport on Theed was teeming with activity. Passengers, officers, droids, and even merchants, bustled busily and noisily up and down the length of the docking bays. Following the brisk steps of his guide, the Jedi Master picked his way carefully between the pockets of excited Gungan students back from an off-world excursion, a large and emotional gathering of an extended family seeing off their kin, and a raucous and energetic bargaining between an old Naboo woman and several cloth vendors. In the background was the steady and almost rhythmic roar of an engine warming up for departure and the high pitched whines of repulsors as they brought in a ship to landing. It was a riot of sound, color, and emotions. For an empath, the cacophony of sentient emotions - always heightened by partings and reunions - was exhausting. Obi-Wan's shields were clamped firmly as he followed Captain Typho through the maze of walkways, turbolifts and platforms of the bay. 

They passed a trio of gossiping guards placing bets on the day's races. Captain Typho paused long enough to catch the eye of one. The men immediately fell into an untidy salute, standing stiff and guilty-looking. Typho favored them with a disgusted grunt and walked on. Obi-Wan could feel the guards behind him dispersing into their assigned posts like disturbed ants to their holes.

"Lax," muttered Typho under his breath.

Obi-Wan nodded sympathetically.

Encouraged, the Captain went on: "Most of them are over-the-hill and long overdue for retirement. The crime rate in this spaceport is appalling. Pick-pockets, purse-snatchers… they find easy pickings here between the harried passengers and the useless excuse of our spaceport security."

"Yet the spaceports on Naboo are rated very highly in galactic polls as some of the safest in the Republic," murmured Obi-Wan.

Typho puffed with pride. Then he deflated with a shudder. "If that's the case, then the gods help us all."

Obi-Wan grinned. The Captain smiled a little. They continued down a darkening corridor, and then they were coming out to a glass-walled, elaborate waiting room, as dissimilar to the crowded platforms outside as could be. The room was quiet and calm with soft chairs where passengers waited leisurely while they watched holo-vids and read tomes of parchment. On enquiry of the uniformed officer behind a desk at the entrance, the two men were informed that Obi-Wan's vehicle was due to arrive at the departure platform in a few minutes. Allowing half an hour for boarding, the ship would depart from Naboo at 0900 standard hours.

Typho led Obi-Wan to a seat in a corner and clasped hands firmly with the Jedi Master.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Master Jedi," he said gravely. "I am grateful for the help and protection that you have given Senator Amidala."

The Captain's warm appreciation was touching but unwarranted. Obi-Wan returned the firm handshake, then folded his hands over his front and bowed gravely. "We serve."

"Whenever you are on Naboo, Master Kenobi, give me a call."

"I will do that. Thank you."

Typho gave one smart salute, and then walked away.

* * *

The white clouds that suffused the viewscreen flew apart like curtains in the wind, and the lush blue and green of Naboo loomed ahead of the shuttle. 

The jeweled world beckoned to him like a siren, its song like a balm to his spirit, like Padmé's hand on his. And like those same hands on his shoulder, the first glimpse of his beloved's planet was enough to push off the mantle of anxiety and unease that had wrapped itself firmly around Anakin during his long solo flight from Coruscant to Naboo. For the first time in recent weeks, he felt free and unburdened. He steered the craft towards the lower hemisphere of the planet where the mountain villages were located. He skimmed low over the domed roof-tops of the mountain homes, daringly plunging down the steep side of the cliff to playfully dip over the waters of the valley lake, spraying foam over the sides of the shuttle, before he zoomed back into the atmosphere.

He twisted the controls and set the shuttle back on course to the equatorial zone where Theed was located. Soon, its marble walls and gracious plazas were twinkling beacons in his viewscreen. He looked at the controls just in time to see the radio COM signal flashing. He switched it on.

"Shuttle A-4-J, you are 5 minutes behind schedule for landing." It was the same modulated voice that had authorized Anakin's entry into Naboo.

"Sorry about that. I'm on my way now," Anakin said genially. It would take more than a grouchy flight control officer to put him out of his good mood.

"Drop to an altitude of 50 meters then change over to Automatic Pilot. Our flight computer will guide your shuttle into its landing bay."

That jostled Anakin's good mood a bit.

"Just send me the co-ordinates and I'll land the shuttle myself."

"Request not granted. It would be a violation of routine landing procedure for all diplomatic shuttles on Naboo."

Anakin switched off the radio. He punched furiously through the navi-computer until he retrieved the co-ordinates the ground control's computer had transmitted. Then he bent the nose of the ship into a smooth dive.

The radio indicator light was flashing furiously. Anakin ignored it. The double-leveled spaceport of Theed zoomed larger and larger in his viewscreen. The bull's-eye square flashed when it locked onto the co-ordinates of the landing bay. Allowing the shuttle one last flourishing swoop over the bay, Anakin killed the turbo-engines, switched on the landing repulsors and slid the shuttle into its port like a hand into a glove.

* * *

The officer behind the desk was talking furiously into the COM head-set. Then he obviously ended the conversation because the next moment, his voice was heard loudly over the in-house speakers. 

"All passengers for Cruiser C103 please make your way to the boarding gate."

Obi-Wan got to his feet at once and joined the sea of passengers that were leisurely making their way to the automatic walkway that run along the length of the waiting room. Of course, these were V. I.P. and First-class passengers and they ran no risk of being abandoned if they had not boarded the cruiser at the designated time. Obi-Wan opened his shields marginally and sank into the Force for patience. At the outer edges of his Force consciousness, treading along a woken bond, a familiar and near presence hovered undetected.

* * *

Although the landing officer in charge and his two security complements obviously were displeased with Anakin's maneuvers, they took one look at his Jedi robes, when he reported at the checking office, and became subdued. Apparently, spaceport personnel realized that routine landing procedures might not necessarily apply to Jedi. 

"We did not know the shuttle was being manned by a Jedi," the officer told Anakin petulantly. "In our records, that craft was registered under Representative Minuks of the Eastern County."

"Pardon the inconvenience," Anakin said smoothly. "He lent me this craft to carry out a personal mission for him."

It was fairly close to the truth. He did not specify who 'he' was and he _was_ carrying out a personal mission - for himself.

"You were given clear instructions to switch to Automatic Pilot," the officer said unhappily. "The in-house computer would have competently coordinated your landing. That is routine procedure for all diplomatic shuttles, implemented for your safety as well as ours."

Anakin calmly prepared himself to deliver another placating speech and then… he felt it: A familiar presence in the Force, hovering in the inner edges of his consciousness, along a bond that he had assumed was dormant.

* * *

Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably in the plush minxo-leather seat of the cruiser. Despite the occasional need to utilize it during missions, the intimacy of luxurious beds and chairs was something that he would probably never be completely at ease with. 

It was fifteen minutes to Departure time and gaudily attired children of a family that sat two seats in front of Obi-Wan were cheerfully running amuck along the length of the aisle. Their outnumbered parents had apparently given up on them and the stewardess droids were occupied with restraining them.

One of the young boys reminded him of Anakin as a child. Obi-Wan's sense automatically drifted to his Padawan's and he used a conscious act of will to yank it back. For the past fifteen minutes, he had been increasingly fighting the temptation to touch his mind with Anakin's along their bond. The Jedi Master knew full well he would be powerless to deal with his Padawan's almost certain whirlpool emotions until they were face to face on Coruscant. Touching on them now would only serve to make both him and Anakin agitated by the time they met each other again.

Ten minutes left to Departure time. He watched an elegantly dressed couple settle into the aisle across from him. The distinguished pepper-haired man nodded solemnly at the Jedi Knight and Obi-Wan replied with a half-bow. Over the man's shoulder, the dark-haired young woman, slanted the Knight a suggestive glance from beneath her long lashes. Repulsed, Obi-Wan looked away.

* * *

Immediately, Anakin clamped down his shieldings firmly, mentally berating himself for not having done so the moment he had entered Naboo's orbit. If Obi-Wan were to find him now … 

The officer fidgeted with his console.

Anakin's attention snapped back to him. "My apologies for any inconvenience I may have caused you. Aside from your grievances, do we have business to discuss or would you prefer to keep wasting my time?"

The officer blinked rapidly. Rudeness from a Jedi obviously was something that he had not been trained to expect.

"Uh… no… Not at all."

Anakin bowed curtly and strode off. He was familiar with the Theed spaceport from his last visit to Naboo via refugee ship, and he made his way through the walkways and corridors fairly easily and fairly quickly. His mind was moving as rapidly as his body.

Obi-Wan was here, in the spaceport, and most likely about to board a vehicle that would take him off planet. The timing could not have been better if Anakin had planned it himself. Or narrower. Because while he was within a hair's breath of getting Obi-Wan off his back permanently, or for a duration long enough to see Padmé without the benefit of his Master's influence, Anakin was also within a hair's breath of being dragged back, kicking and screaming to Coruscant and more irrevocably banned from ever seeing Padmé again.

For some reason, though their bond was active - activated apparently by Obi-Wan while Anakin was unconscious in the Healer's ward - and though Anakin had sensed his Master's presence, Obi-Wan had not sensed his Padawan yet. Still with their present proximity to each other, if Obi-Wan were to decide to probe for him, shields or no shields, he would find Anakin and know he was here.

Anakin reached the last walkway before the main entrance hallway of the spaceport and started jogging.

* * *

Five minutes to Departure time. The boisterous family seemed to have settled down. The steward droids wheeled along the aisles, checking that the passengers were secure and well instructed in the procedures for take off. Obi-Wan's Jedi perceptivity sensed the muffled roaring of warming engines. 

Thinking of engines made him think of Anakin and almost compulsively, the Jedi's shields lifted slightly to _touch…_

"Are you familiar with the take-off instructions, sir?" A modulated vocoder inquired over his head, breaking his concentration.

Obi-Wan looked up into the metal face of a steward droid and nodded. All the same, the droid rattled off the instructions for a good two minutes before wheeling to the couple across the aisle.

The woman reminded Obi-Wan of Senator Amidala. He was immediately ashamed of the thought. That was unworthy of her and of him. Despite her recent infraction, in the end, Amidala had proved herself an honorable woman.

The Captain's voice came over the speakers informing the passengers that they were about to take off. Five seconds later, Obi-Wan felt the familiar sensation of vertigo as the repulsors kicked in and the vessel started sliding away from the dock. The children up ahead started chattering excitedly and removed their seatbelts to crowd against the port view by their seat, cheerfully violating the instructions they had just been painstakingly told by the steward droid.

The vessel launched itself into the air. Through the port window by his side, Obi-Wan watched the green and blue of Naboo fall below. He was glad. This undeniably beautiful planet was one of the least favorite places in the galaxy for him. If he had only one prayer to ask of the Force, it would be that he would never have cause to return to it again.

The Jedi Master closed his eyes and sunk into the Force and himself. Shields up, he started searching for his centre. He would need it to face his Padawan when he arrived on Coruscant

* * *

Anakin watched the ship disappear through the clouds, taking his Master away with it. Obi-Wan was off Naboo. Anakin sent a brief prayer of thanks to the Force and started making his way through Theed. 

Later on that day, the Padawan stood in front of the plaza leading to the Palace and tried to re-capture the euphoria and confidence he had felt while flying over Naboo. It was impossible. Even the thought of his Master's departure no longer gave him pleasure. The anxiety Anakin had felt during the journey in space was seeping back into him in small gushes. The words of the letter he had all but memorized echoed in his head:

"We can't do this Anakin, and we both know it."

"It just is not possible."

"The most logical choice is to end it now."

As he made his now faltering way to the Palace, Anakin tried to ignore the persistent voice in his head that reminded him that some of the words in that letter were words Padmé had already told him herself.

Words she had said long before Obi-Wan had ever had a chance to speak with her.

* * *

The Senator returned to the Palace that evening pleasantly exhausted. She had had several meetings with representatives from five of the eight districts, including the Prince of Theed himself, and the head of the union of spice workers. The latter demanded a formal retraction of the now unfounded accusations that the union was responsible for the assassination attempts on the Senator's life. Amidala had countered that: as there had been no actual accusations, merely speculation - as nothing had been declared officially but only through the disreputable underground media - and as the suspicions had originated from the Jedi Order and not from the Senator's office: then their demands were groundless. After they left, disgruntled, she instructed her personal assistance to make a formal statement regarding the matter to the media. She owed the union no obligation to do this and that was the point she had wanted to make clear to them. That she had planned to do it anyway, long before their meeting with her, was not their concern. 

After weeks of relative calm, Padmé had a slight headache from the marathon conferences and she welcomed it. Her mind was already numb with work and that evening, she made it even more so while she sat at her private office desk in her apartment and worked through the pile of data-binders that, for as long as she could remember, never seemed to diminish no matter how many she went through. Assisting her were Artoo - better than any console, he faithfully uploaded information at her request - and Dormé - whose face looked increasingly disgruntled as hours into the night, the Senator showed no signs of stopping soon.

"We should start organizing for some new handmaidens," Dormé declared at a point in time.

"Huh?"

"New handmaidens, my lady," Dormé said rather sharply. "For your office."

Some of Padmé's peaceful numbness faded. She gave her handmaiden an unhappy look. "So soon?"

Dormé shared the look. "We can't postpone it forever."

Padmé sighed and turned back to her work.

"It's quite late, my lady," Dormé said gently. "You should retire."

Padmé sighed again. "I will in a moment, Dormé. You can go ahead and put things in place for the night. You go, too, Artoo."

Dormé went at once. Artoo followed more reluctantly, beeping dissatisfactory. Padmé scrolled steadily down the datapad she was reading, jotted some notes in her typepad, and then closed the two. She arranged the desk carefully so that she would know where she stopped the next day, then got up and stretched. She left her desk and paced along the walls of the room.

Like everywhere else in her home, the private office was beautiful and tastefully decorated. Padmé had had it painted yellow when she resumed office as Senator, to feel as comfortable in it as she had at her own study desk back at home. She spent more time in this office than she did her sleeping chambers and it was for good reason that she made a lot of effort to make it feel like home. There were holos of her family placed strategically on the walls between art figurines and one-dimensional paintings. She looked at Sola's for a long time and finally decided against calling her sister that evening. Padmé had not quite forgiven her sister's insensitivity the day before, even though Sola probably had no idea just how painful to Padmé, her teasing had been. Also, right now, Padmé preferred a tactless, playful Sola to a compassionate, protective one.

There was a small ornate mirror by the window overlooking the courtyard. Padmé glanced at and quickly away from her still-pale, unhappy face and looked down at the beautiful gardens below, then further towards the distant mountains that stood against the skyline

How she loved Naboo, she thought suddenly. Her beautiful home. No sacrifice was too much for it.

She turned away from the window, her eyes glancing again at the mirror.

And she froze completely.

Standing behind her reflection, his dark figure silhouetted against the sun-colored walls, was Anakin Skywalker.

* * *


	8. Incident At Raxus Prime

**CHAPTER VII**

**Incident at Raxus Prime **

Compared to Kamino, Raxus Prime was about the most dirty, inhospitable place young Boba Fett could imagine. He'd gotten a good look at it as the bounty hunter Aurra Sing deposited him here, on a rocky outcropping just outside Count Dooku's underground lair.

As far as the eye could see there was industrial waste, literally mountains of debris and lakes of noxious slime. Toxic gasses filled the sky in clouds of red, yellow and green. Breathing the stuff was impossibly unpleasant and eyes burned in the acid mist.

Yet here, in the Count's hidden stronghold, none of that could be seen or felt. The air was sweet and slave droids kept everything clean and organized. It reminded young Fett of the cloning facility where he'd grown up. It was almost as pleasant – that is, it would have been if he'd been free to roam around and discover. Such freedoms, though, had already been strictly forbidden by his host. According to Count Dooku's majordomo, a reptilian giant of a creature named Cydon Prax, Boba was to stay in the room he'd been given.

Of course, he couldn't do as he'd been told. Not even for his new would-be benefactor. The temptation to explore this strange place was simply too great to resist. He'd already been reprimanded once for leaving the safety of the stronghold to go topside. Prax had quickly tracked him down and dragged him back, but not before he'd seen plenty of interest. There were countless heavy machines, including cranes, drills and other digging equipment. They appeared to be excavating in the area beyond the industrial buildings and refineries.

As quickly as he'd been discovered, he hadn't been able to accomplish the one thing he'd set out to do - confirm a suspicious reading he'd seen on board the Slave I as they'd arrived on Raxus Prime. He could've sworn one of his readouts had shown three small fighters on the rocky flat surface quite a ways off from the active digging site. He was familiar with that particular wedge-shaped style of fighter: one had followed the Slave I to Geonosis. Those were Jedi fighters. If Jedi were here on Raxus Prime, wouldn't Count Dooku want to know? _He _wanted to know.

_Well_, Boba thought, _if the Count had treated me better I would've told him at once._ As it was, he felt no obligation to his father's former employer. Jango had always taught him that loyalty not freely given. It had to be earned.

So far the man Jango deemed worthy of respect had shown Boba only disdain and rudeness.

That was unfortunate, as he had come here fully prepared to swear loyalty to the man his father had served for ten long years. Instead of an appreciative welcome he'd been immediately banished to his quarters, as if his presence was nothing but a tiresome annoyance!

In Boba's eyes that was no way to earn the loyalty of the son of Jango Fett. His father had been the most fearsome bounty hunter in the galaxy and Boba quickly resolved that he would show the Count the error of his ways.

Even now, he crept quietly down the corridor towards Dooku's office. His father always said respect could be forced – one simply needed to possess something of value to the other party. He suspected he could easily find something of value in Dooku's private chamber.

He reached the door, only to find the palm scanner didn't respond to his wave. Of course it would be locked. The Count probably had many secrets he needed to keep from prying eyes.

A small pinkish force field flickering near the floor caught his eye – a service opening for the cleaning droids. He remembered the little unit he'd passed moments before and took off after it.

Moments later he slid back beside the small barrier holding a small radio transmitter. One quick turn of the antennae mechanism and the force field flickered off. Boba laughed to himself. That had been _way_ too easy.

He crawled through the opening. It was only about a third of a meter square. For once he was grateful to be fairly small for a ten year old.

Emerging into Dooku's office he scanned the room for some bit of information that would aid his cause. The huge desk took up most of the room and he figured it was the most logical place to start.

A small stack of data chips sat beside the upright holo-screen. He inserted one of the chips into the reader and watched as the monitor flickered to life. It was a communiqué from a Rodian. Unfortunately Boba's grasp of Rodian was rustic at best. He'd mastered many languages in his courses on Kamino, but he'd only been studying this one for about a year.

He was just beginning to make sense of the words when he heard heavy footsteps in the corridor just outside. He ejected the disk and managed to set it back on the stack before dropping to the floor. He heard the swoosh of the door opening as he rolled under the desk.

Black booted feet crossed the dark glassy floor, stopping in front of the desk. The room was eerily silent and Boba was almost afraid to breathe, sure even that faint sound would echo through the chamber.

From somewhere above him a com-link buzzed insistently. He sighed in relief.

"Yes?" There was no mistaking Count Dooku's commanding tone.

"A coded holo-transmission for you from Coruscant." The answer was delivered in Cydon Prax's sibilant hiss.

"By all means, put it through." Dooku circled the desk to take his seat, forcing Boba to roll out from under the desk to the front to avoid being kicked. He glanced around frantically for some other form of cover. If anyone else entered the room now…

"Greetings Yan." It was a woman's voice, crisp yet cordial and severe yet affable.

"Hello." Nothing in the Count's reply gave a clue as to her identity, but his tone was warm, certainly warmer than Boba had reason to believe it could become.

"I hadn't heard from you on schedule. I was getting worried. Whatever took you so long?" The woman, whoever she was, was not hesitant to chastise Dooku – something Boba would not have believed possible.

"No reason for concern. Things here just haven't been as…productive as I'd hoped." The Count cleared his throat. "How are things at the Old Folks' Home?"

"Tiresome as usual. I have much to report, starting with a status report on young Skywalker - "

"Wait!" Dooku commanded sharply. "I'll need to get back with you on this. I have a _small_ matter that requires my urgent attention." The com disconnected with a beep.

Suddenly the door to the outer corridor slid open and Cydon Prax stormed in. "The boy is gone again - " His eyes dropped to the floor where Boba crouched. "No matter." The count intoned. "I was just about to deal with that little problem."

Boba tried to judge the distance between where he sat and the door. No way could he get past Prax.

Seconds later, when Dooku circled the desk and reached down for him, Prax didn't seem the greater threat. Boba rolled quickly away from the Count's outstretched hand before springing to his feet and running for the door. He was negotiating the best way around Prax when he felt himself being pulled backwards, as if something had a vise grip on the back of his neck. He was startled to realize that his legs were still moving, but his feet no longer touched the floor!

He glanced back over his shoulder, trying to figure out what held him. The Count was still standing by his desk, one hand raised as if grasping something invisible. Boba's mind flashed back to one of his father's stories - about the Jedi and the way they could manipulate objects with only the power of their minds.

Slowly Boba was turned around, his feet dangling well above the floor. He squirmed against the firm invisible grip as he faced the old Count.

"You are proving more troublesome than you are worth, little Fett." Dooku whispered ominously. "What a great pity. Your father was a trusted servant and I feel a certain loyalty to his... _son_." His cold eyes raked Boba's face contemptuously and even in his fear, Boba felt his cheeks grow hot with anger.

"But already you know too much", Dooku continued. "I think it wise to eliminate you altogether." He looked over Boba's head. Prax gave a wicked cackle and his boots stomped forward eagerly.

Boba shuddered even as his mind working furiously to create an opportunity for escape.

"But, your Excellency! I only wanted to warn you about the Jedi!"

Dooku's eyes snapped back at Boba at once. "Jedi?" He was obviously intrigued.

"When we flew in I thought I saw Jedi starfighters on the ridge overlooking the digging site." Boba took a deep breath. This would be his only chance; he'd better make it good. "That's why I went outside earlier. I wanted to find out for sure before I said anything."

The old man's eyebrows were so close together, they were a single black stroke across his high forehead. His eyes seemed to pry into Boba's head and the boy held his breath, trying to stare back fearlessly while his heart was pounding with anticipation.

"Hm." The Count said at last and he lowered his hand slowly. Boba's feet once more found the floor. Dooku tugged his beard thoughtfully as he gazed up and away. It was as if he could see past the durasteel walls to the very ridge Boba spoke of. Boba stood as still as possible. He knew that no matter how distracted the old man might seem, it was foolhardy to even try to escape. Dooku's dark eyes snapped back to the boy. "It seems you do have your uses when it suits you. You've just been given a reprieve." Boba breathed in sharply as the Count motioned to Cydon Prax who stepped forward and roughly took hold of Boba's arm. "Put him someplace secure this time. I'm off to take care of our _visitors_."

* * *

The target location on Raxus Prime was situated in a huge crevasse, a canyon over a hundred stories deep and thousands of meters long. On any other planet such a wonder would have been formed from rock weathered by wind or water. Not so on this Outer Rim world. 

Here the mountain sides were formed from the collected carcasses of capital starships, remnants of buildings and piles of inorganic and organic waste. These monoliths were a testament to the planet's legacy of industrial overbuilding. Even now, hundreds of years after the last factory had closed, it was no more than a burial ground for the refuse of a galaxy that would prefer to forget such a place existed.

Jedi Knight Siri Tachi stood on a high rock crest looking down on the excavation site she'd been sent to destroy. Intelligence reports indicated this site was occupied by the Confederacy. Day and night huge cranes and earth movers worked non-stop, searching through piles of industrial waste and garbage. Republic spies still had not been unable to determine what it was they searched for so diligently. Siri allowed herself a small smile. After today it wouldn't matter.

Even more important than shutting down this operation was the fact that this location was almost certainly the hideout of the former Jedi, Count Yan Dooku.

It was all about the recent events on Geonosis, really. Much time had been spent in the past weeks rehashing Obi-Wan's discoveries there - particularly the discovery that Dooku was, indeed, party to the plot to assassinate Senator Amidala, along with the Count's insistence that the Senate was under the control of a Sith Lord.

It was the opinion of the Council - and one Siri shared - that Dooku himself was the mastermind behind the Confederacy's thinly veiled plot to see the Senate overthrown. Master Windu, in particular, cursed himself for his lack of vision in those split seconds before chaos erupted in the arena. He'd had his lightsaber at Dooku's throat, only to have his hesitancy cost Master Trebours his life moments later. His error had been grave and costly – he had relied on what he knew of Dooku and his reputation instead of listening to the Force and seeking guidance.

In retrospect it was clear to everyone that Dooku had to be eliminated in order to halt the growing Separatist movement. The longer Dooku was allowed to live, the more it placed the very existence of the Republic in jeopardy. Which brought them here, to Raxus Prime. Dooku was here somewhere and taking his life was the prime objective. No sacrifice was too dear to accomplish that mission. The future of the Republic and the Senate depended on it.

Siri tried once more to get a look down into the ravine. Her electrobinoculars were precise, but of little use against the haze of dust swirling in the wake of the giant machines. Far below she could just make out two dark figures ducking into what appeared to be a ventilation shaft.

She clipped the binoculars to her belt before shifting her gaze to the outcropping of rock a few meters beneath where she stood. A small metal outpost in the cliff face marked the service entrance to Dooku's command center. The two clone troopers that had been there moments before were now nowhere to be seen. That was all she needed to know.

Wind whipped her shoulder length blonde hair into her face and she brushed it back impatiently. Her eyes and throat were on fire from the gasses carried up from cracks in the planet crust. Their noxious stench was almost overwhelming, but she stood firm.

Seconds later she was joined on the ridge by five clone trooper lieutenant commanders, their ranks clearly indicated by blue markings on their shiny white battle armor. She knew from the mission briefing that each commanded his own gunship with a complement of 10 troopers. Each unit had their own unique and very critical task to perform if this mission was to succeed. She spoke to each in turn, assigning them to specific targets.

The first would strike the power generators. The next two, the huge laser cannons stationed strategically around the excavation site. The third she sent to knock down the communications array. The fourth and fifth were to take out the bunkers and the construction equipment. That would keep the local forces busy on all fronts, leaving her partners below plenty of time to achieve the mission objective. With a nod she sent the troopers on their way and brought her com-link to her mouth.

"Sergeant!" She shouted loudly to be heard over the roaring wind.

"Yes, General Tachi? This is CT-1198, waiting in position." The trooper's voice was emotionless and precise.

"It's a go! All other positions are set. Let's blow this thing!"

"Affirmative General. We'll meet you at the rendezvous point momentarily. CT-1198 out."

Siri spared one last look at the assembly of machines and equipment below before sprinting across the ridge and ducking down behind an outcropping of rock. It wasn't a moment too soon. The earth shook violently as an explosion ripped apart the small outpost below. Dooku's stronghold was breached.

* * *

Far below the site of the explosion Master Adi Gallia and Knight Luminara Unduli slid down a sloping ventilation shaft before landing unceremoniously on a ferrocrete floor. 

Both hurried to stand, but only Luminara attempted to brush the dust from her dark Jedi tunic and pants. "I was hoping for an entrance that was a bit more elegant, but I guess in times like these I'll take what I can get." She ran a hand over her sable hair, which had been confined in a thick knot at her nape. Everything appeared to be in order.

Giving a short laugh at her companion's dry wit and momentary lapse of vanity, Adi checked out her surroundings.

Where they stood could almost have been a hangar bay except that there wasn't a ship to be found. Instead, the area was littered with boxes, tools and pieces of machinery that appeared to be designed to lift heavy equipment. A meter-wide conveyor belt – moving, but carrying nothing – cut a wandering path to various parts of the room before disappearing through a large flap on the far wall. If she had to hazard a guess, Adi would assume they stood in some kind of vast garage, a repair room of sorts for the hulking machines that worked outside.

For the first time it appeared their intelligence had been incorrect. According to the plans they'd been given they should be standing in a recycling chamber. This was definitely not a recycling chamber.

The two women looked at each other and shrugged, as if sharing the same thought. Though vastly different in looks and personality, it was no secret that they shared a strong bond of friendship, one that rivaled any knight/Padawan bond.

"Suggestions?" Luminara inquired.

"We get out of here and find Dooku." Adi searched the walls she could see, looking for any doorway out of this chamber. Something didn't feel right…

Beside her Luminara froze. Her companion instantly sensed her anxiety. They had to get out of here now!

From somewhere far off they heard a muffled explosion. Siri's invasion was underway. There was no time to lose.

"There!" Luminara pointed to a stairway in the far corner. It ascended to a flat platform that served to house a large crane. Beside the crane was an open doorway.

"Looks good to me." Adi muttered under her breath. They shot for the stairs.

At the foot of the stairs Luminara stopped, reaching out for Adi, catching her by the tunic. A breath later a huge chunk of steel crashed onto the platform. They'd missed being crushed by a split second!

Suddenly the room was cold. With trepidation they turned slowly back towards the open area.

Luminara's wry sense of humor surfaced once more.

"It appears we weren't as far from our objective as we thought."

There, in the middle of the room, stood Count Dooku.

* * *

The light in the room dimmed ominously, giving a hint of the pitch-blackness that would overtake the chamber once the attack on the power generator was complete. It quickly brightened seconds later, much to the relief of the two Jedi on the stairs. 

They looked down at the Count from their perch, not sure which direction to turn. The plan of attack had been to find him in his office or his private chambers. It would have been easier to contain him in close quarters. This location was unexpected and far from ideal, but it would have to do.

Dooku walked slowly and confidently towards them through the equipment strewn around the room. Although his bearing and elegant clothes declared him a nobleman of Serenno, the lightsaber at his waist betrayed his true calling.

"Leaving so soon?" He inclined his head slightly. "And here I thought you'd only just arrived."

Neither Luminara nor Adi rose to the bait, though Adi could sense her partner's impatience. They'd been warned before they left Coruscant that Dooku could be very personable and persuasive. Exchanging pleasantries would only distract them from their purpose.

Dooku was undeterred by their silence and continued towards them at the same leisurely pace.

"I hear you were appointed to the Council, Master Adi. Congratulations." His lip curled just a little, suggesting a smile. "You've come a long way from the squalling crechéling from Corellia I met so many years ago.

"And Master Luminara! I hear you took a Padawan shortly after I left the Order. I do hope it was that young Mirialan girl…I can't recall her name, but she showed genuine promise."

He stopped almost two meters from the foot of the stairs and gazed up at them companionably.

"Not in the mood for conversation?"

Their minds were already attuned to each other for the coming battle and as one, Adi and Luminara glanced back over their shoulders at the twisted chunk of metal that blocked their exit – the one that had almost been their end. They looked back at Dooku. Luminara's expression did not change. Adi arched one elegant brow.

"Ah, point taken." Dooku nodded. "I realize my welcome was less than gracious, but I didn't want you two leaving before you'd even said your greetings."

"Count Yan Dooku," Adi spoke forcefully, "we are here to take you into custody so that you can answer for your crimes against the Republic." With a bravado she wasn't sure she felt, she stepped down to the lowest stair. Luminara followed her lead beautifully, descending alongside her friend. Both women unclipped their lightsabers and cradled the cool hilts lightly in their hands.

Rather than respond to the subtly aggressive gesture Dooku folded his arms across his chest. "Crimes against the Republic?" He scoffed. "I think you will have to be more specific."

Luminara spoke this time. "The charges include conspiracy, treason and murder."

"Indeed?" Dooku sounded skeptical. "And does the Republic have proof to substantiate these charges?"

Two vivid blue gazes slid over him before Luminara once more replied in the same cool, official tone. "Proof will be provided once you answer to the appointed tribunal."

"So, you believe I should offer myself into your custody to stand trial at the hands of a government I don't believe in? You'll have to do better than that! My dear ladies, your presence here is proof that the Republic is a joke. No more than a collection of corrupt politicians with egocentric Jedi at their beckoning to enforce their will on an unsuspecting galaxy."

Adi schooled herself not to sigh visibly. She had known all along that Dooku wouldn't submit, but still she had harbored the tiniest flicker of hope that they wouldn't be reduced to the role of assassins. It was that simple. If he wouldn't go with them, he would have to be destroyed.

She squared her shoulders, noticing that Luminara had done the same, and drew on the Force to clear her mind. Her partner did likewise, and Adi felt Luminara's thoughts twine even more completely with her own so they could function as one. Tensely she waited for Adi to make the first move.

Somewhere above them another explosion rocked the compound. The lights ebbed again, coming back weakly only to flicker every few seconds. Time was running out.

"Then you won't come with us?" Adi asked redundantly, already knowing the answer that would be forthcoming.

"Oh, absolutely not." Dooku straightened from his casual pose, dropping his hands to his sides. His right palm hovered just above his lightsaber.

"Then we have no choice." Adi ignited her green bladed saber with the flick of a finger. Unlike most Jedi, Adi held her weapon upside-down, utilizing a unique, loose-limbed stance strangely similar to what one would see among street fighters in the back alleys of Coruscant.

Beside her Luminara's blade ignited with the same characteristic snap-hiss and emerald glow. Though she palmed her weapon in the traditional manner of the Jedi, her stance was equally distinctive. She crouched low to the floor, raising the sword above her head, blade pointed forward.

Dooku didn't acknowledge the uniqueness displayed before him. Instead, he appeared almost bored with the whole idea.

"A duel is not my first choice, but if it's the best you can do…" Dooku pulled the curved handle of his saber from his belt, igniting it even as his arms swept his cloak back in one smooth motion.

He raised the blade vertically in a formal salute to his would-be opponents before assuming his own unique stance.

Adi met his eyes with her own, using the split second that she had his attention to deliver the first combination of saber blows. As was expected, he blocked them with ease.

Luminara took advantage of Adi's offensive, springing into a full somersault over Dooku's head. She landed lightly just behind him, forcing him to turn around to block the emerald blade slicing towards his neck.

Adi leapt forward to capitalize on Dooku's distraction, only to find the Count's crimson blade meeting her own once more. He spun with a swiftness that belied his 80-some years, blocking offensive blows from both his opponents.

The duel raged fast and furious. The two Jedi were perfectly attuned to one another and the Force, anticipating each other's moves and compensating for weaknesses. When Adi swung high, Luminara swung low; when Dooku deflected Luminara's frontal attack, Adi flipped to his back. Though his efforts at fending them off were amazing, it quickly became obvious to everyone that he could not maintain such a pace, much less deliver a critical blow of his own. Drawing heavily on the Force, Adi redoubled her attack. Luminara did the same.

They could see Dooku losing strength even as he managed to block their blades. The effort was taking its toll, though. Lines of strain were visible on his face and in the positioning of his body. If they could just maintain this aggressive attack a little longer…

Suddenly a strong blast rocked the facility and the floor rolled under their feet. The lights dimmed even more; they were flickering constantly now.

Both Jedi, their attacks linked mentally, hesitated for a split second. It wasn't much, but it was enough of a delay for Dooku to exploit. He raised his hand and pushed hard with the Force.

Adi felt her feet leave the ground seconds before she flew back against a huge durasteel crate. Only just in time did she manage to draw the Force to her to cushion herself from the bone-shattering impact. She struggled to get her breath back and staggered to her feet, watching as Luminara continued the attack. It was obvious that the Mirialan Jedi Knight's form was excellent, but she wouldn't be able to stand alone against Dooku's old-school style.

Adi glanced around for her saber and spied the glint of silver by the base of the crate. She used the Force to pull it into her palm and ignited it once more, heading back into the fight.

Dooku saw her coming and skillfully maneuvered Luminara so that they faced him from the same direction. Adi pressed her advance beside her partner and fell back into the rhythm of the dual attack. Together they assaulted him from every angle. High and low. Left and right.

Still the Count held them off, though his age was starting to take its toll. They pushed and he retreated. When his boot heel bumped the first stair of the flight of steps behind him he continued back. One step up at a time until he was looking down at his opponents from several steps up.

As one Adi and Luminara threw a forceful blow towards the Count's midsection. He blocked and with a brilliant clash of sparks the three sabers locked. Their energy beams holding fast to each other as ions attracted.

All three struggled to free their own blade, pulling back with all their might. The Count must have realized the futility of the tug-of-war. He released his grip, sending his blade flying backwards along with the two Jedi.

Adi recovered her balance almost instantly, losing only a few meters of distance between herself and her opponent. Luminara wasn't so lucky. Her momentum carried her farther back, over a small stack of metal machine parts. She stumbled over the unexpected obstacle, falling hard and losing her grip on her lightsaber. The metal cylinder flew out into a shadowy corner of the room.

Dooku, also saberless, eyed them both disparagingly. He backed up slowly until he stood halfway up the staircase.

Adi stepped forward, determined to re-engage.

The Count's palm shot forward and a stream of blue Force lighting exploded towards her. She raised her lightsaber, catching the energy stream easily with the downward slanted emerald blade.

Out of the corner of her eye, Adi saw Luminara rise to her feet, felt her reach out with the Force to search for her lightsaber in the darkness. Dooku didn't give her that courtesy. With his other hand he sent a twin burst of Force lightning hurtling towards the unarmed Jedi.

As if from a distance Adi heard her own shouted warning, saw Luminara extend her open hand to catch the dark energy wave. It slammed into her raised palm, a blue energy orb forming as the force of the bolt was absorbed.

The technique was new to them – since Geonosis – and required intense concentration. In practice sessions at the temple Master Windu had shown them both what to expect, though he and Master Yoda both admitted that Dooku's actual Sith lightning would be more powerful than what they could duplicate. Still, the strong Force bond that Adi and Luminara shared, as well as their unique mental strengths, gave them a chance of success and made them the best candidates for this mission.

This was the true test of what they had learned – the trial by fire, so to speak.

Adi struggled to hold her saber aloft, using two hands now to grip the handle. With dismay she felt Luminara's strength begin to ebb under the assault. Concentrating all of her energies, she sent her reserves through their bond in an attempt to shore up her partner's fading power.

It worked for a few moments, but Dooku's will was stronger. Adi saw Luminara brace herself under the assault, gritting her teeth against the pain. Tears of frustration and effort streaked down her cheeks.

It did no good. By slow degrees the orb dissolved until lightning made full contact with Luminara's open palm. The Mirialan screamed in agony, dropping to the floor as wave after wave of dark energy coursed through her body.

Through their bond Adi felt her friend's pain as if it were her own. It seemed to lance through every muscle, every soft tissue. It blinded her to all else. The lightsaber fell from her grip and suddenly the assault was very real.

Dooku had them both! Lightning coursed through Adi until she couldn't distinguish her own pain from Luminara's. She dropped to her knees, writhing under the onslaught until she lay helpless on the floor.

All at once the pain eased, but her traumatized body still wouldn't allow her to move.

Through the red haze that clouded her eyes she saw Dooku straighten from his place on the stairs. He looked drained and much, much older in the failing light. He descended the stairs, stopping by Adi's prone form.

"You fools," he gasped. "You utter complete fools." He was obviously weary. Even through the red haze of echoing pain that enveloped her, Adi could hear the painful heaves in his breath.

Then he drew back into himself and his voice took back its characteristic drawl. "Much as I would love to continue dancing with two such lovely partners, I find the evening growing long." He took a deep breath, running a hand over his hair to smooth it back into place. "Perhaps you and I can share another beautiful interlude when next we meet. Pity I can't say the same for your friend."

He held out his hand towards the darkness and his lightsaber snapped neatly into his grasp. Stepping around Adi he disappeared into the darkness.

How long she lay there she didn't know. Her muscles slowly and painfully came back to life and she crawled towards Luminara's still form.

She already knew. She had felt the bond dissolve, felt her friend's bright presence in the Force dwindle to nothingness. Even so, she had to see for herself.

Tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks as she bent over the fallen Jedi Knight. Her chest didn't rise and fall. No breath could be felt or heard. No pulse pounded reassuringly at the curve of her throat.

Luminara Unduli was dead.

* * *


	9. Sacrifices

**CHAPTER VIII**

**Sacrifices **

_The trickle of sand through the thin stem of the old-fashioned glass chrono was the only sound in the room for a very long time. The two that stood staring at each other through the glass mirror might have been life-like statues of marble. They were so still, so locked in their reflected gaze, one could hardly believe that they breathed. Their eyes gave them away though: blue and brown were stormy and pained as they studied each other intently._

* * *

There was a story that their cousin had once told Padmé and Sola when they were very small children living in the house on the mountain. He was their favorite cousin because when it was bedtime, and all the children in that big extended Naberrie household were tucked in the gigantic bed by the window, he would preside over them like a King and bestow upon them his stories. Part tales from the far corners of the Galaxy, part village folklore and part pure fantasy, his stories were utterly magical and they wove their spell of enchanted belief in the hearts and minds of his younger cousins. Years later, when most of the memories of her family's life in the village were blurred and faded at the edges like worn-out parchment, the memory of those stories remained sharp and clear in Padmé's mind.

Padmé remembered one of her cousin's stories the morning after she saw Anakin Skywalker's reflection in her mirror. That morning, the suns rose over the distant mountains and shown at her face where she sat by her office window, studying her hands. Sometime during the night, she had shifted the chair so its side rested against the wall and she had settled in it primly, her back flushed to it, her feet tucked in beneath the seat, the back of her hands flat, fingers splayed on her lap. Other than that, she had not moved in over six hours. She should have been stiff and in serious discomfort from her severe posture; her muscles should have been screaming in agony. Instead she felt nothing. She was utterly numb.

The only thoughts in her head were the details of the old story. It was a tale of a distant land, further than the furthest world from Naboo. In that land, the air was so cold that it rained frozen water and the ground was covered in white sheets of ice; there was no plant life, there was hardly any life at all. The ruler of this land was its Queen, a human female who was as pale and cold as her land. She was cold right to her heart and her veins were filled not with blood, but with ice water.

Padmé looked from the sun to the pale-veined palms in her lap, watching for the moment the pink lines disappeared entirely, waiting to see when the liquid running beneath the pale skin turned frozen and colorless.

* * *

_At the sight of him she had gone numb with shock, her emotions draining out of her like blood from a wound and leaving her completely absent of feeling and thought. Distantly, she watched his blue eyes through the mirror, watched the way they looked at her, over her, his gaze devouring her._

_She knew when his eyes found the scars that were barely visible through the see-through cloth on her back because they widened with horror._

"_Padmé," he said hoarsely, taking a step forward, his hand outstretched to touch her._

_It was the sound of his voice, filled with so much anguish and longing and the sight of his lips forming her name that broke the spell. Suddenly, she was her own reflection and her name spoken with his voice was the pebble that cracked her through. Splinters of emotion spiraled from her centre like spider web cracks on glass._

"_Oh, Padmé," he repeated, and his hands were on her shoulders._

_They were like flat slates of coal on her skin, and their scorching heat permeated the thin membrane, rushed through and poured into every cell of her body like liquid lava. Her fever had returned and that was as good a reason as any to pull away from him. Rather she leaned into his embrace. Her heart was beating so quickly she thought it would fail at any moment. Her eyes could not tear away from his reflected gaze._

_As she watched, his eyes flashed at her flushed skin with dawning realization. "You are not well," he said hoarsely. His hands slid from her shoulders to her upper arms; his brow strained and his eyelids shut tightly in concentration._

_Then cool relief coursed through her like a gushing spring and the heat in her face and body receded until it was only the bands of skin where his hands encircled her that were warm._

_He gasped and his head fell forward, resting against her hair, his own thick hair a wonderful abrasive on her skin. She could feel his deep breathing damp, loud, and infinitely pleasurable against her neck._

_She leaned back against him, no other thought in her head than to feel him as close to her as possible. A silent part of her noted that this was why she had not wanted to see him in the first place and then it fell completely silent when he whispered her name against her skin and she shivered violently. The urge to turn in his arms and enter fully into his embrace was overpowering. The reasons why she should not were becoming increasingly obscure._

Tell me, o virgin sister mine, during those secluded, isolated days you spent with him in the lovely Lake Retreat, did he manage to make it into your bed?

_Her sister's words suddenly echoed, soft and mockingly in her ears._

_She jerked out of his arms at once. She could see his eyes widen in hurt and confusion and she looked away, determinedly donning her veneer of aloofness._

* * *

The sun's rays winked mischievously through the overhead tree leaves and a few of them danced across the face of the man that was lying bundled in his cloak at the foot of the tree. He rolled from the glare to lie on his other side. A brightly colored bird alighted from one of the branches and perched on his shoulder, twittering shrilly. He opened his eyes and stared at it blearily. The bird gave one last shrill and joined its fellows in the branches overheard. Now fully awake, Anakin sat up, tucking his knees beneath his chin. He stared blankly around the clearing where he had slept. The undergrowth was flattened where he had earlier stomped on it in rage. The glade was sheltered with large trees and wild bushes. Besides the singing birds, the forest around him was silent.

Anakin inspected his hands.

He had fashioned a glove for the prosthetic before he left Coruscant. He removed it now and examined the delicate gears and rods that now took the place of his right hand. The metal was high-quality bio-steel, resistant to moisture and extreme temperatures and did not rust. It glinted in the twinkling overheard light, blinding him. He scrutinized his left hand. The skin on his palm was pale from all those weeks in the Healing ward, and although the recent self-inflicted wounds were healed, it remained still tender and bruised. In many ways, the metallic prosthetic was better than the natural hand: it was stronger, more flexible, durable… Anakin studied the differences for long moments then he got to his feet carefully and stood in front of the tree he had been leaning on. He balled his fists and smashed them into the bark.

The birds fell from their home, shrieking loudly in rage. Anakin ignored them. He was studying his hands again, the way the left hand had cut open where it was bruised before, and the way the right had merely bent along the stress and then, as he watched, returned to its original shape. So, it was also elastic. He noted this with a grim satisfaction and then smashed his fists into the tree again. And again. The birds that had returned to their home flew out again and to him, flapping their wings scoldingly. Their neighbors in the other trees also flew out to see what the commotion was about. Oblivious, Anakin slammed his fists again. Then again.

Blood seeped between the grooves of his fingers down to his wrist and dripped on the ground, splashing against his boots. The metallic wires took a little bit longer to return to their original shape. He was steadily battering the tree with his fists. There was a cry in the distance, probably from some forest animal hearing the commotion and warning its kind. Again. Again.

Again.

Again.

* * *

"_I never expected to see you again. What are you doing here?" Her voice was an icy whisper._

_A few moments out of his embrace and she looked as inapproachable as the Queen a nervous boy had met all those years ago on Coruscant. All the fears and insecurities that he had kept at bay since he woke up so many hours ago on another world rose up at once at the sound of that voice, so formal, so emotionless, so unlike the voice of the woman who had pledged her love to him. _

_He fumbled with his jerkin, pulling it from his utility belt and frantically searching beneath his inner tunic. Her eyes widened but she did not turn around. His hand touched the smoothened parchment and he drew it out from his tunic._

_He held the letter up so she could see it in the mirror. Her mouth fell open _

"_I got your letter." _

_Her large eyes looked from the letter to his face and then quickly away. Her back rose and fell._

"_Did you read it?" she asked at last. She continued before he could answer, "Because if you did, you would have realized we have nothing more to say to each other." Her voice was icier than before, if that was even possible, dismissive._

_No. He was imagining that. How could she dismiss him now, after what they had been through together? After what they had become to each other? Even now the kisses she'd given him burned in his mouth. He hadn't imagined those._

"_I want to hear you say it to my face, Padmé. I want to you to look me in the eye and tell me we can't be together."_

_Her eyes met his steadily in the mirror. "We can't be together."_

_Fear was like a cold wind whistling through his bones, trying to cool his over-heated blood. His fingers fisted convulsively over the letter._

"_Not to my reflection," he said with courage he barely felt. "To my face."_

_Her chin lifted arrogantly. For a horrible moment, he thought she would actually turn around. But then she looked away. She did not._

* * *

"My lady?"

Padmé looked up from her hands (which were still pink beneath their paleness: was the sun keeping the water in her veins warm?) and into her handmaiden's frightened face.

"Yes, Dormé."

"I've been looking for you everywhere," Dormé exclaimed, relief and something close to anger in her voice, "have you been here all night?"

Padmé turned back to her meditation of her hands. "Yes, Dormé."

The handmaiden looked around apprehensively. "Has he… gone?"

"Yes, Dormé."

* * *

"_We've had this conversation before, Anakin."_

_Her voice was so cold, so controlled, her body so controlled and rigid. Was this his Padmé? The girl that had comforted him, the woman that had spoken to him softly, her body language that of warmth and compassion, and eventually desire? It was as if he was looking at a stranger. Even the back of her neck looked different than he remembered it. Harder. Perhaps some malignant spirit had possessed the body of his beloved._

_But he knew better. This was not Padmé. This was Amidala and she was as hard and intractable as the lifeless doll idol she strived to be._

Give up_, his voice of reason, the voice of his Master, told him resignedly._

_No._

_He forced himself to sound rational. Impassioned words would not move Amidala. "You didn't let me finish then. Anything is possible." She made a noise of dispute but he went on, overriding her, "I understood everything you told me in that letter. You don't want to take me from the Order and you won't have to. I've left. I'm not… I'm not a Jedi anymore. We're free."_

_She drew in a sharp breath. So he had shocked her. He had shocked _himself. _The words had just flung out from him; he had not planned on saying them. And now, his heart pounded with desperation, with fear at all that he was willing to sacrifice for her. _

_But how could he continue to serve if she was the price he had to pay? At what point will that self-denial become self-destruction? She was worth it. What they had was worth everything._

_He could feel the surprise rolling off her erstwhile closed senses in waves. The eyes that looked at him now through the mirror were wide and stunned; her face was no longer so pale._

"_No." She whispered at last._

"_Yes," he insisted. He took a step closer to her. "I have to return to Coruscant and hand over my lightsaber and swear the oaths of leave-taking and all that. But I've left in my heart already. What's left for me to do is just ceremony."_

_She closed her eyes as waves of relief coursed through her. Taking her relief for gladness at his decision, he took another step to her and reached for her. He had won her._

_She opened her eyes and took a frantic step forward, away from him; his hands fell to his side in defeat. Suddenly, a tide of impatience rose up in him. _

"_What is it?" he asked, impatient and confused. "I've left the Order: what else stands in our way?"_

"_You haven't left the Order," she replied. Her voice was no longer cold and emotionless although it was obviously trying desperately to be. He could feel the edges of passion along her modulated tones. He clung to that sign desperately. Oh, he would make her _feel _before long. "You're officially a Jedi until you have taken those steps. As far as the rest of the Order is concerned, you are _still _a Jedi."_

"_Formalities. I'll be finished with them and back on Naboo within a day. Padmé…"_

"_You will do no such thing," she snapped. Now there was clear anger in that voice, anger bordering on irritation. _

_His own temper flared. "Don't tell me what to do!" He was as incensed at her tone of voice as he had been in the Queen's court not so long ago. And her refusal to look at him fully was maddening. He wanted to grab her shoulders and spin her around until she faced him. _

"_I will if you insist on acting like a child!" she retorted at the top of her voice. "I want you to leave, Anakin." He recoiled as if she had slapped him. "I will arrange for your transport to Coruscant this very night. You will return to the Temple and your life as you know it. I do not want to… to ever see you again." She finished falteringly and bowed her head. _

_Her words _cut _him, cut _through _him, deflating his temper, crippling him with pain. He swayed on his feet._

"_You don't mean that," he said hoarsely._

_She did not answer. Her white neck was exposed; he could not see her face._

"_Oh stars, please tell me you don't want that!" He cried._

"_What I want is of no consequence, Ani," she whispered._

"_You told me you loved me," he reminded her desperately, "on Geonosis, in your letter. You told me I had your heart."_

"_You have it still, now and forever. I cannot keep yours."_

"_Why are you saying this?" He shouted. "Why are you doing this?"_

_For long moments, there was silence. They stood there, frozen in their places: Her head bowed and her shoulders slumped. His own shoulders had started heaving with dry sobs; his chest was a thick knot of pain and fire. _

_She raised her head and he could see his own pain reflected in her eyes, in the tears that stood in them. "You are special, Anakin," she whispered. "You have the chance to fulfill your destiny, to be great and glorious, and to use your gifts to do much good in the galaxy. I cannot take that away from you."_

"_I don't want it! Without you I don't want any of it!"_

_She smiled. Bitterly. "Don't you know? It's never a matter of what we _want_, Anakin but of what we _must_."_

_He swayed again. "No." And with energy borne more out of sheer desperation than actual strength, he cleared the distance between them in one stride. His hands reached for her shoulders and he turned her to face him._

* * *

Anakin had no clear memory of how he made his way to that forest last night - or was it early this morning? - and he had no memory of how he made his way out of it. One moment, he was standing in a small glade, his broken hands hanging loosely by his side, the vague sense of predators behind him - the next moment, he was in the plaza in front of the large spaceport. Fisted hands bandaged with scraps from his tunic hung in gloves at his sides. The little that could be seen of him beneath his dark cloak looked wild and dangerous.

The flight officer remembered him from the day before - barely. He attended to the Jedi with trembling hands and dropped the key card twice before he placed it in the gloved palm.

He watched the dark hooded figure disappear with the inexplicable relief of a man who had just had a very close shave.

* * *

"_Senator?"_

_The tension of tortured emotions, frazzled, coiled and strained, was only heightened at the inadvertent interruption. _

_Anakin's eyes flew from her face to Dormé's and then with a loud sound, he stalked off to the other side of the room._

_Padmé's eyes followed him hungrily, desperately, memorizing the way his legs strode, the way his hips did not sway, the way he clenched his fists tightly by his side, and the angle of his neck. Even in his anger he was graceful, sleek like some sort of barely tamed beast of prey. She tallied all these points to be stored away in her memory. She prayed that one day, in the very distant future, she would be able to open that part of her mind called "Anakin Skywalker" and look at these memories with nostalgia like old holos. _

"_My lady?"_

_Dormé's anxious voice drew Padmé's attention to her. Her handmaiden had entered the room fully and was now looking from Anakin to Padmé with utter puzzlement on her face. "How did he get in here?" she asked anxiously. "My lady, do you want me to…?"_

"_Dormé, why don't you retire for the night? I will make my way to my chambers when I am ready."_

_Anakin looked up sharply from his brooding stance in the corner. His eyes focused on Padmé's small figure._

_Dormé stared at him distrustfully. "But my lady…" she began in protest._

"_Do as I say, Dormé," Padmé said in that authoritative tone that she hardly ever used._

_Dormé bristled. "Of course, Senator," she said stiffly._

_She stood in the doorway, apprehension still evident on her face until the door slid shut._

* * *

"She's been like that all morning," Dormé's voice whispered over her head. Artoo's long beeps were like low wails.

"Could you turn your head to one side, Senator?"

Padmé did so at once. From the corner of her eye, she could see strange silver-plated instruments projecting from the numerous appendages on the EM-DEE droid.

"I have work to do," she said passively.

"You've refused to leave the window all morning. You've refused to eat. Your hands are frozen. If you had a fever I might think you delirious, I don't understand some of the things that you've said to me," Dormé's tear-filled voice sounded so far away. "You aren't really listening to what I am saying now, are you?"

"I am," Padmé said truthfully. "I am sorry, Dormé."

"And to the other side?" the EM-DEE asked.

Padmé titled her head and the medical instruments went out of her view. She could now see the slowly flashing lights on Artoo's dome.

"EM-DEE," she said.

"Yes, Senator?" She could still hear its whirs and clicks.

"Did you check my blood?"

"Your pressure is rather low, Senator, but once again there is no sign of infection from your previous injuries. On the other hand, the symptoms of your previous fever have disappeared -"

"It's turned into water, hasn't it?"

Dormé moaned. Artoo emitted a high-pitched panicked whistle.

"I beg your pardon, Senator?" The EM-DEE asked tonelessly.

"My blood has turned to water, hasn't it? Freezing water."

"No, Senator."

"Check again." Padmé felt Dormé reach for her hand and clasp it firmly. Her handmaiden's hot hand scalded Padmé's cold one but Padmé did not have the heart to pull away. "My heart is frozen, so my blood must be as well."

Artoo thrilled woefully.

"Of course, Senator."

* * *

_She sank bonelessly into her chair. Her legs no longer had the strength to support her - that was how far gone she was. She was literally throbbing with pain. Her aloof façade had long since abandoned her and she was now a hopeless mess of emotions._

_He gave her no quarter. He flung himself at her feet, catching her hands in his._

"_Please." He looked up at her with eyes that were so wounded and yet still so filled with hope that her soul quaked within her at the sight. "Please, Padmé."_

_Out of a compulsion that would not be denied, she took her hand out of his and placed it against his cheek. He leaned into it, closing his eyes. She could feel his pulse beneath her fingertips, his breath fluttering against her skin. His lips turned to her hand and he kissed her fingers with an intensity that seared right up her arm to her very core._

"_I love you… Don't do this… Please…" he murmured, interspersing each plea with kisses._

_She was crying silently, tears running down her cheeks unchecked as she held his head to her lap and bent over him. "You're not making this any easier for me."_

_He turned to her other hand. "I'm not going to."_

"_We can't be together," she said for what must have been the hundredth time that evening._

"_This is where I belong," he said simply._

_As did she. What was wrong with her? She thought frantically. Why was she so determined to hurt him and herself? _

_She lifted his head up and he was crying: those eyes, those wonderful blue eyes shimmering with pain and fear. She traced the paths of tears on his cheeks, leaned over and kissed all of them._

"_I want you to promise me that when you leave here," he made an unhappy noise, "that you will return to the Temple. That you will not abandon your training. Promise me this, Anakin."_

"_Don't make me, Padmé. Please don't -"_

_Her lips found his. They kissed long and hard and when the kiss ended, they were both gasping in pain. He was trembling so violently that she could barely hold onto him. She bent his head and kissed the crown of his hair._

"_We'll find each other again," she said. _

_He shook his head fiercely. He threw his head back and his eyes glared at her accusingly._

"_We have each other now," he cried. "Don't throw this away. Don't throw 'us' away."_

"_I don't have a choice."_

* * *

Mid-transit between Naboo and Coruscant, the lone Jedi pilot of the shuttle craft switched the controls into autopilot, un-strapped himself from the pilot's seat and fell to his knees, sobbing violently.

"Why? WHY? Answer me!" He asked them all: the Force, the stars, the billions of people that inhabited the systems of starlines zooming past his craft.

There was no answer. The Force was silent. The starlines flickered without a pattern. The people he was now sworn to protect for the rest of his life continued their selfish lives oblivious to his confusion and pain.

And the galaxy revolved around its imaginary centre, indifferent to the agony and sacrifice of two insignificant individuals in its chaos of time and space.

* * *

_The letter was lying where it had fallen on the floor. He picked it up and held it in his hands for a while, seeing the smudges of black ink and red blood, tears and sweat; it smelt of her perfume, his blood; the emotions of raw pain and rawer passion grazed the edges of his skinned nerves._

_This was all he had now of her. All she was willing to give him._

_Tenderly, he folded the worn parchment and he placed put it back in its place between his tunic and his chest. _

"_Anakin."_

_He straightened to his feet rigidly. It was his turn to keep his back to her and this time there was no mirror to show her his face._

_He could not bear to look at her._

"_May the Force be with you."_

_His ribs closed over his heart and he felt his fragile calm threaten to shatter again._

_The Force could not dwell in the soul of the damned. _

_Without another word he ran, leaving his soul behind in that sun-walled office as he disappeared into the darkness of the night and his own desolation._

* * *

"I'll be fine, Dormé," Padmé murmured. "I have unfathomable reserves of strength."

The tear-streaked face of her loyal handmaiden hovering above her tried to smile. "Oh my lady, I hope I did the right thing."

"You did, my friend," Padmé said gently. She snuggled in further in her mother's quilt. No bed ever felt as comfortable as the one in her room, her own room with the sun-colored walls in her parents' house.

At her other side, Sola leaned over to brush a loose curl off Padmé's forehead. Padmé smiled sleepily.

"Baby sister," Sola said, a weak attempt at teasing that did little to disguise the utter franticness she had felt earlier, "I do hope that whatever you did to put yourself in this state was worth it."

Padmé did not answer: she had not heard the question. The broth her mother had force-fed her had worked. She was sinking fast into deep sleep, into a sleep filled with dreams of a man with weeping blue eyes begging for mercy from the cold heart of the Snow Queen.

* * *

_The trickle of sand through the thin stem of the old-fashioned glass chrono was the only sound in the room for a very long time. _

* * *


	10. Developments, continued

**CHAPTER IX**

**Developments, Continued **

_Echoes of a blood-curling scream from a soul as it left its body…_

_The shadowed face of a grey-haired man with dark, soulless eyes…_

_A fleeting glimpse of a steep mountain cliff, falling, falling…_

_Blue eyes livid with pain and hate…_

Then Barriss Offee's own eyes flew open and she was back in the darkness of her small room, her bed hard and comforting beneath her, and her body completely drenched in sweat.

Her heart was pounding with fear.

Instinctively, her hand reached underneath her bed for her lightsabre but even before she had grabbed it, she knew that the danger that had pulled her so violently out of sleep was not one that she could see or touch with her hands. Still, the moment her fingers wrapped around the cold solid metal cylinder, she felt her senses relaxing.

She threw her legs over the bed and with the lightsabre clasped firmly in her lap, she bent over and drew in deep calming breaths, drawing on the Force for reassurance.

After long moments, she finally raised her head. Her breath was steady and her heartbeat pounded with a steady, purposeful rhythm. She was calm. She was at peace. She was a Jedi and she had found her balance.

"A vision," she told herself. Not a nightmare, of course. Jedi did not dream. She forced her mind back at once, trying to recall the particulars of the vivid, painful sensory images that had assaulted her sleep. It was like trying to hold onto sand. The moment her mind focused on one memory, it faded away, slipping out of her head completely. After few more minutes of this, she was left with nothing but a frustrating blankness.

And a vague but definite sense of premonition.

* * *

"Thank you, Padawan Offee," Mace Windu said gravely. "This new information will be most helpful."

Barriss bowed deeply. Her long dark robe swept her ankles and her robes shifted with a sort of simple dignity as she stepped briskly out of the room. The meditation room was silent and waiting as the two Councillors and Jedi Knight watched her leave.

A very young Padawan, Mace thought, but with the wisdom and composure of a Knight twice her age. She was a credit to Luminara.

The moment the doors had shut behind her, Yoda broke the silence.

"Imprudent your words were, Obi-Wan. Kept from both Padawans their Masters' mission, have we. Now given it away you have." His moss-coloured eyes were dark and unhappy in the faint light of the partly-lit room.

"I am sorry I spoke out of turn Masters, but I did not expect that she and Ferus had been kept in the dark about their Masters' mission," Obi-Wan said. The words were courteous as usual and his tone was a respectful pitch but his accusation rang out in the Force. Mace and Yoda couldn't help but hear it.

An hour ago, Barriss Offee had approached Master Windu in the hall and told him about a vision she had had the night before. Immediately, Mace had taken her to the meditation room where Master Yoda was discussing with Obi-Wan Kenobi on a related matter and she had recounted everything to all three of them. Not that there had been much to recount. The Padawan remembered no particulars of the vision and the only proof she had that it ever happened was her own conviction and the definite feeling of unease she had borne with her since. They had been enough to convince the councillors. Master Yoda had placed her in a trance and tried to make her recall the vision, but to no avail.

Finally, Mace and Yoda had dismissed the Padawan, reassuring her that they would meditate on this matter and try to get to the bottom of things. Before she left, Obi-Wan, who had watched on in silence all through out the interrogation, spoke up and asked her if she had any reason to connect her vision with her master's mission on Raxus Prime.

Barriss had tried to mask her shock and anxiety at this revelation but her face, and then her Force aura had given her away. Mace had firmly reassured her of Luminara's faith but the deep worry had still been in her eyes when she left.

"To bear a burden which she was not prepared for, your rash words have caused her," Yoda said now. "Wonder I do if your unintentional slip might have been deliberate."

"It never occurred to me that she and Ferus would not be told of their Masters' mission," Obi-Wan said obstinately. "I can understand that they are too inexperienced to go along on such a dangerous mission but surely they could have been informed? Are they not trustworthy enough?"

Yoda and Windu exchanged glances.

"The reasons for our decisions we need not explain," Yoda said curtly.

Obi-Wan looked moderately abashed. "Forgive me, my Masters."

Yoda glared at him through narrowed eyes as if trying to weigh the sincerity of his apology. Then he sniffed and started walking away, "Your anger I sense, Obi-Wan."

"I am not angry," Obi-Wan said at once.

And he wasn't, Mace admitted, he was exercising a remarkable effort to _restrain_ his temper.

"Dissatisfied, then," Yoda grunted. He had reached his cushion and he now clambered up it. "Unhappy you are that we forbade you from following after your apprentice." He settled onto the cushion and folded his small legs beneath him.

"I fail to understand why I should not have fetched Anakin from a foolish endeavour that would have at best ended in a bitter disappointment for him, yes."

"You are so certain Anakin is on Naboo, Obi-Wan?" Mace interjected.

The Knight stiffened. "He is not on Coruscant," he answered flatly. "The last people to see him in the Temple were Eeth Koth and Ferus Olin two days ago. Eeth witnessed an argument between the two boys that ended in Anakin throwing Ferus into a rack of training sabres. A diplomatic shuttle disappeared from the Senate hangar not long after. It filed a flight plan to Naboo."

"He must have gone after Senator Amidala," said Mace.

"It appears so, Master," Obi-Wan said in the same flat voice.

"Long has this rivalry between your Padawan and Olin lasted," Yoda added. "Resolved it must be, especially in these perilous times. One thing is spirited competition but conflict it can cause if out of hand it goes."

"This is not the first time we have spoken to you and Siri about this," Mace told Obi-Wan sternly. "You _have_ tried to speak to Anakin about this matter, haven't you?"

"There is a great difficulty to doing that, Master, owing to the fact that he is currently not here."

* * *

It was out of line, Obi-Wan knew and he was threading dangerously close to outright rudeness to the two Councillors but between arriving back on Coruscant to find Anakin gone, and discovering that Siri and Luminara, two of his closest friends, had been sent on a very dangerous mission after Dooku, Obi-Wan was… not angry. But he was as close to anger as a Jedi could morally be.

He had been all set to go after Anakin the moment he had put two and two together – Anakin had gone too far this time and all Obi-Wan wanted to do was get hold of his Padawan and give him the tongue-lashing of his soon to be short life. But Mace Windu had made him stay back. They needed Obi-Wan on Coruscant; the Jedi team that had been selected to go to Raxus Prime had initially been Obi-Wan and Anakin, Mace had informed him firmly. The least Obi-Wan could do was stay behind on Coruscant and make himself useful rather than gallivanting about the galaxy after his errant Padawan and beautiful senators.

Of course, it had not been said in as many words but Obi-Wan got the general idea.

So he attended to the two Masters in the meditation room and tried to search the Force through his bond with Siri for clues about the progress of their mission. Communication between Coruscant and Raxus Prime was nearly impossible so the Jedi were relying on their tentative links in the Force to keep in touch with the team on Prime. So far the senses they were getting from the Force were vague and disquieting and although the mission was barely twenty-four hours old, the Council was worried. Obi-Wan even more so.

Anakin must have discovered the open Master/Padawan bond because he had effectively closed it from his side. Of course, Obi-Wan could have breached the restriction anyway and tried to find out about his Padawan's whereabouts. But it would have been a level of invasiveness that Obi-Wan was not ready to undertake.

He had felt _something_ last night. A tremor like a galactic seismic wave. It had felt as if Anakin was reaching out for … him. Or more specifically, for help or comfort of some kind. But when Obi-Wan had tried to reach out back to him, he found that the bond was closed again.

Whatever worries Obi-Wan had had before had doubled after that.

Barriss Offee's visit had been the last straw. Obi-Wan was still outraged over the fact that Siri and Luminara's mission had been kept from their Padawans. He braced himself now for a sharp rebuke for his words.

Master Windu pressed his lips together firmly, his high forehead bunched in disapproval. Then he turned his back to Obi-Wan with a deep sigh and he allowed the comment to slide.

Yoda did not.

"Time for this bickering, we do not have, Obi-Wan," he said sternly. "The situation at Raxus Prime is tantamount and is our purpose here. Return to that line of discussion we must. Deal with Padawan Skywalker later, we will."

Obi-Wan nodded, feeling his cheeks darken. "I am sorry, Masters."

Master Windu walked to his own cushion and folded himself unto it. Obi-Wan came closer, standing respectfully in front of them with his arms folded underneath his robes.

"I have meditated as you asked," he said to Yoda and Master Windu now. "The Force has not revealed to me a reason for the silence from Masters Gallia, Tachi and Unduli."

"What about Dooku?" prodded Mace Windu. "You met him, you fought against him. Do you sense anything from the man?"

Obi-Wan forced his mind to turn to Dooku. It was hard. He remembered the cool elegant voice oozing with poisonous, blasphemous lies about Qui-Gon. He remembered the look of sinful glee on Dooku's face when he electrocuted Anakin. He remembered the humiliation of the easy defeat under Dooku's blade…

He turned his mind away.

"I sense nothing."

There was a deep unhappy silence.

"Asked us, you did, Obi-Wan why we did not tell the Padawans about their Masters' mission?" Yoda said at last.

"Yes, Master but…"

"Need you to know the reason. We suspect… that there might be a traitor amongst us."

Obi-Wan's mouth fell open. Windu noted with displaced smugness that this must be one of those rare occasions when the young Knight was lost for words.

"We have suspected for a while," Windu added. "Certain coincidences, certain plans we made against the Separatists that seemed to have been anticipated." He paused, then breathed heavily. "Dooku was one of us, and there were a lot of Jedi who admired him… There probably still are…"

Yoda's ears bent low over his head. Obi-Wan watched the old Master seem to shrink within himself in distress. Yoda had actually fought his old Padawan, Obi-Wan realized. It was the first time he had thought of it that way. Before in his mind, Yoda had fought against the 'traitor' Dooku. But no, to Yoda Dooku had been more than a phantom grandmaster turned Separatist leader. Dooku had been Yoda's _Padawan_, like Anakin was to him, like he had been to Qui-Gon. Yoda had actually had to defend himself against an attack from the man he had brought up from childhood. Yoda had to live with the fact that his son in the Force was lost to the Dark Side forever.

Obi-Wan thought of Anakin and his heart quailed. He and Anakin had their disputes, granted. They clashed more than any other Master/Padawan pair he knew. But Obi-Wan could not imagine Anakin ever striking at him in anything more than a practice duel. He could not imagine Anakin trying to hurt or harm him in anyway. He could not bear to imagine it.

Obi-Wan could only begin to understand what the pain of that thought was causing the old Master.

The need to find Anakin and speak to him was so overpowering it was almost like a physical ache. Obi-Wan seriously contemplated breaching the invisible boundaries of their bond.

Just then the small holoproj in front of Yoda's cushion flashed. Obi-Wan knelt down to switch it on.

Aayla Secura's form appeared in the image.

"We are ready to leave, Masters," she said.

Mace and Yoda exchanged looks then Yoda turned to the holo-image. "Coming we are."

The image switched off and the two Masters got to their feet. Yoda used the Force to beckon the hoverchair leaning against the wall to him.

"You will accompany us, Obi-Wan, for a meeting with the Supreme Chancellor," Windu declared.

Obi-Wan hid his expression of distaste just in time but Windu still gave him a sharp glance as he passed ahead in front of him. Head bowed respectfully, struggling to master the feelings of impatience and irritation within him, Obi-Wan followed the two Councillors out of the room.

* * *

There had been no answering call in the Force when she had reached for her Master through their bond. Of course, that was expected. Her Master was on a clandestine assignment after all. It was unusual for Master Luminairi to entirely close of their bond but it would not be the first time. Still…

"_I am not worried."_

It was mid-day in the Temple and the majority of its occupants were congregating to the dining halls for mid-day meals. The few exceptions would be the few species of Jedi that did not eat mid-day meals, the Healers on duty in the Healing centre, teams of Knights and Padawans about to embark on missions and the Archivist on duty at the Archives Centre. Barriss Offee glided past the migrating groups as she made her way to the Archives Centre, head bowed and a tranquil expression on her face.

A young Archivist approached her the moment she entered and offered Barriss assistance. Barriss asked for the Head Archivist. If anyone would have access to the kind of information she wanted, it would be Jocasta Nu.

"_I am not spying."_

"She's assisting some one now," the apprentice Archivist told Barriss. He was a Twi'lek male with earnest flapping tentacles. "But you can wait for her here. Follow me."

He led her to one of the inner sanctums of the centre – one of the stalls that were built for the more academic Jedi to study and meditate. It was a quiet, meditative place with busts of ancient Jedi Masters placed in the alcoves of the dark terra-detta walls. It soothed Barriss' mood perfectly as she paced on the cool, blue-glass floors, head bowed in deep thought.

_The Force echoes of a blood-curling scream as a soul left its body…_

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply but not before the shudder ran through her body. A memory from her dream/nightmare/vision. About the only one she could remember with sufficient detail now. No image to go with it, just the sound of sheer terror. The sound of pain itself, of loss, of suffering and of death…

"Padawan Offee, may I be of assistance to you?"

Barriss spun on her heel to look down at the pleasant smile on Jocasta Nu's wizened old face. She had been so preoccupied with her thoughts that she only just sensed the Archivist approaching. She fought back her embarrassment and tried to look as outwardly composed as possible.

"Yes, as a matter of fact," she said firmly in reply to the archivist's question. She took a mental deep breath. "I need some information concerning one of my Master's recent assignments."

One grey eyebrow lifted. "Surely you have access to your Master's personal logs?"

"_I have a right to know."_

Master Obi-Wan had certainly thought so. Barriss recalled now the look of outrage on Anakin's Master's face when he realized what the Councillors had been keeping from her and she lifted her chin defiantly.

"There are certain details there that she seems to have omitted," Barriss said unblushingly. It was an 'Anakin'-lie. It was not an outright lie – Master Unduli had certainly failed to record 'any' information about her latest top-secret assignment in her logs, but it was not the complete truth either.

The Archivist's lips were pressed tightly together. Anakin had once said that she looked like an avarian creature from his home planet that fed on decaying corpses. Ferus had been there and he had immediately turned on Anakin for that – supposedly for ridiculing an elder Jedi. It had been one of those rare days when Anakin was in such a good mood that he allowed Ferus' snarking to roll over his shoulder.

Barriss always suspected that it was not the insult in itself, but one more reminder of Anakin's strange history – his connection with his home world and his family – that had rubbed Ferus so raw. She understood that. It had made her uncomfortable herself.

"Padawan Barriss, I trust you must have decided by now on what you are looking for?"

Barriss blinked. The old Archivist was looking up her sharp bird like nose, a deep frown between her brows. She was pointing at a console on which Barriss could see the title page of Master Unduli's log. She had been so completely lost in her reverie that she had not realized when the Archivist had led her out of the stalle.

She blushed beneath her tattoos. "Pardon me," she mumbled. "An assignment she had with Master Siri Tachi sometime this year…" The words 'Raxus Prime' hovered briefly on her tongue and she swallowed it. She did not understand why. Instinct guided her.

Jocasta Nu's white brows climbed up her forehead. "Is that so?" she said with something that sounded like suspicion in her voice. "There certainly seems to be a lot of interest in Master Unduli's and Master Tachi's recent missions among their Padawans."

"Pardon me?"

"Just before you came, I was assisting young Ferus Olin. Apparently, he also needed to update his Master's logs on a mission she had shared with your Master these past few months." She gave the speechless Barriss a piercing look.

Barriss just managed to return it without blushing. "What a coincidence," she replied with dignity.

The Archivist made a little sniffing noise and then she turned back to the console and keyed in some instructions. After a few seconds, the screen dissolved and then resolved into a list of data. Barriss leaned closer. The search had recovered three missions that her master had shared with Siri Tachi. Two of them were missions on which Barriss herself had gone along. The third mission was classified.

_Classified._

"Which is it, then?"

Barriss barely heard the Archivist. She was staring blankly at the word.

_Classified._

Barriss pointed a steady hand at the first mission listed. Inside, her heart was pounding furiously. "That one."

_Classified._

"I thought so," Jocasta Nu said dryly.

* * *

Of course the mission had been classified. Ferus had been aware of that long before he had asked Jocasta. Confirming what he had already known was not the point of his asking.

"Computer repeat last program command."

Promptly, a line of text appeared on the indigo screen.

_Non-authorized request. Cannot compute._

Ferus' fingers were already flying over the keypad. In quick seconds, he was pressing the Input Command button. The screen went blank and there followed a pause of about five seconds during which he was acutely aware of the quiet solitude of his remote alcove, the faint humming of suppressed noise that filtered from the rest of the Archives Centre… He was acutely aware of what could happen if he were ever caught here, literally hacking into the Temple's top-security archives. He had never so blatantly broken the rules before in his life. It was a testimony to his desperation that he had stooped to this level.

The five seconds passed. The screen resolved into the same list of data that Jocasta Nu had retrieved barely thirty minutes ago for Ferus (and barely ten minutes before for Barriss Offee). Once again, the three missions shared by Masters Siri Tachi and Luminairi Unduli presented themselves to Ferus. Once again, the last mission was classified.

Ferus rested his hands against the plasti-glass desk, and leaned as close to the inbuilt microphone as he could. In a voice that was as thin a whisper as he could make it, he said:

"Computer de-classify data type 3."

The cursor at the bottom of the screen blinked once, then twice. Then:

_Non-authorized request. Cannot compute._

His hands slipped against the desk and he realized that his palms were sweating. The urge to turn off the console and stand up and walk out of the Archives Centre was overwhelming. He had already received two non-authorization warnings. According to his Master, the third one would cause the console to send a notification to the Master Console in the Head Archivist's Office. The Force only knew the sensitivity of Master Siri's mission. If he were caught…

The humiliation, his peers' disillusionment, Anakin's sneering, the Council's disappointment, Master Siri's pain…

Master Siri would understand. She had wanted to tell him about her mission, had referred to it in broad hints - it had a direct impact on the Clone Wars, she and the other two Jedi were going after a major leader in the Separatist's Army… According to what she had declared to Ferus the night of her departure, her Padawan had a right to know about her mission and the Council could take its mandate and do something too vulgar for words with it. It was _Ferus_ who had refused to hear any more. Ferus who had always had a great deal more respect for the Council's mandates than his own Master had insisted on - in his words - "not helping you to defy the Council, Master." Siri had answered him with her characteristic hiss of exasperation, followed by an affectionate ruffle of Ferus' hair and that look in her eyes that always seemed to ask however had she ended up with a Padawan who was so much unlike her. Then she had told him to _try _to do everything that she would do. And she had gone.

And now Ferus would have given his Knighthood to have kept quiet for five minutes and allowed her to say all that she had wanted to tell him.

With determination he clenched his fingers and rested them on the keypad to -

"Try to run a Query for missions in Raxus Prime," someone said quietly over his shoulder.

* * *

Ferus swerved on his seat so violently that he jostled the console. Barriss Offee's long sleeves went over his head to steady it. For a brief moment, he was trapped between the desk and her slim arms.

"What -" he gasped, his face mere inches from her. He could feel the blood rushing to his head. His heart was racing faster than it had done even after his most tedious workout.

"Did you think you were the only one updating your Master's logs?" Her lilting voice was teasing. She freed him and pulled up a chair.

Ferus moved away reflexively. His shock was dissipating, and was quickly replaced by confusion. "You spoke to Jocasta as well?"

"Yes," Barriss said, her eyes never leaving the console. "How were you able to recall this information? I thought you needed an Archivist password to run this type of Query?"

After a long moment of utter silence on Ferus' part, she wrenched her gaze from the screen and turned it to him. Under her cowl, her dark eyes were even larger than usual. She was near enough that he could see the hazel glints in them.

"You used an Archivist password! How did you do that?"

"Keep your voice down," Ferus hissed. He looked around him frantically but his alcove was as empty as he had thought it was before Barriss appeared.

Which was not saying much, actually.

She had cocked one dark eyebrow at him. "I am not shouting. Don't worry, Ferus, I'm not going to report you." She nodded at the screen. "I need to know, too."

But all of Ferus' misgivings were coming to the fore again. It was one thing for him to gamble with his own interests but to now trust someone else with this… That was mad, utterly mad…

And however had she been able to sneak up on him like that? All his senses had been on full alert.

"How did you do that?" He asked sharply.

"Do what?"

"Sneak up on me like that."

She shrugged elegantly. "Mild cloaking, I knew you would have deleted anything of value before I came within one foot of you."

Ferus was effronted. "That's abusing your powers! You can't cloak without your Master's supervision unless you're on a mission. You're not supposed to cloak in the Temple."

Barriss looked at him gravely. "I am on a mission, Ferus. A mission to find out what's happening to my Master. The same mission _you_ seem to be."

Ferus shook his head. "This is ridiculous. There is no mission. You had no business resorting to that. I had no business coming here. We are both overreacting. Master Siri has gone on solo missions lots of times in the past."

"Solo _classified_ missions?" She pierced him through with her gaze and he looked away. A long silence followed.

"I had a vision last night," she said softly and he turned to her at once.

She told him about all that had aspired from last night in her chambers when she was woken up by the violence of a vision she could barely recall now, the meeting with Yoda and Mace in the morning and their revelation, and her unsuccessful encounter with Jocasta.

By the time she was finished, Ferus was dumbfounded where he sat. Barriss' dream… the Council's decision… Obi-Wan's defiance… His mind was spinning with questions but he had no idea which to ask first. He had been trained to assimilate large briefings but the information overload he had just received was overwhelming.

Barriss gave him a sympathetic smile. "That's how I felt, to. I wouldn't have left the Council chambers so meekly if I hadn't," she added disparagingly.

Ferus barely heard her. He was thinking about the death-scream she had remembered from her vision/dream. He was also wondering when all of this information was supposed to have reached him.

From the corner of his eye, he could see her gesturing at the console. "Who taught you how to do this? Anakin?"

Ferus jerked out of his daze at once. "Of course not," he snapped. As a matter of fact, it was Master Siri on one of the rare moments when she had convinced him to learn something unconventional. But that was none of Barriss' concern.

"Why are you here?" he demanded abruptly.

"What?"

"Why are you here?" he repeated. "Were you sent to inform me of this? To summon me? Or did you just happen to seek me out on your own?"

Barriss shrugged. "When Jocasta told me you were also asking questions, I knew I had to speak to you. Why?"

"So the Council had no intention to inform me of Master Siri's mission?"

"Didn't you listen? They weren't about to tell me at all. It was Master Obi-Wan that let it slip out. Master Yoda didn't show it, but he was furious."

"Then they were right," Ferus retorted. "He had no right telling you then and you had no right telling me now."

"What?" Barriss' normally tranquil voice raised in outrage.

"I certainly did not ask you to tell me all this! I didn't want to know!"

"You'd rather bury your head in the sand, you mean," she said waspishly. "You'd rather not know about whatever dangers your Master is facing?" The hazel lights in her eyes were glinting like fireflies.

"I'd rather obey the Council. They are far wiser than you or me or Master Obi-Wan."

"Anakin was right: You are a hypocrite." And her words were like a slap across his face. "You're here trying to hack into the database to find out what you're accusing me of telling you."

Ferus drew himself up haughtily. "If you're going to spout insults at me, Padawan Offee, then I advice you to leave."

Barriss was on her feet at once. "I _am_ leaving Olin. I told you about my nightmare. I thought you of all people should understand. But I was wrong. I can see that I have just wasted both our times here." Even her tattoos seemed to brighten with indignation.

"Perhaps Anakin will be more understanding," Ferus retorted, his voice shaking slightly. "Neither of you certainly know your Masters very well. And if you're having nightmares then he must be rubbing off more on you than I had imagined. Oh, I forgot - Anakin's currently A. W. O. L. No wonder you had to settle for me." And despite himself, he laughed harshly.

She gave him a look that would have turned a Niph'ta to salt.

"_Shhh." _

They both started violently. A young Mon Cal in Archivist robes was standing behind the furthest shelf and frowning at them.

Barriss recovered first. She nodded apologetically at the Archivist. Then with Force-enhanced swiftness, she spun on her heel and strode away from Ferus. Her swift strides matched each rapid graceful swing of her robes. In seconds, she was out of sight.

"Can I be of assistance, Padawan Olin?" The Archivist offered, breaking Ferus' train of thought.

It took Ferus a moment to realize the danger. Then in a motion that was purely instinctive, and not reasoned out and planned, he turned back to the console and switched off the machine.

"No, thank you," he said as he brushed past the surprised Mon Cal. "I was just leaving."

* * *

The audience with the Supreme Chancellor did not go as smoothly as the Jedi anticipated. They arrived minutes before the scheduled meeting and were kept waiting in Palpatine's reception chamber for over an hour. According to his Rodian personal assistant, the Chancellor was in a dragged out meeting with a handful of the Loyalist Senators and could the Jedi please bear with him? Of course they did.

When the Jedi finally stepped through the palatial doors of the Chancellor's office, Palpatine was alone, standing in the middle of his spacious red-shaded chambers with his arms spread open in apology.

"A thousand pardons, esteemed Masters," he said with emotion.

"A Jedi's service sometimes demands merely his patience," Windu said simply. Master Yoda's ears twitched in concurrence.

Palpatine bowed deeply. "As usual, the wisdom of the Order moves me to awe."

With a smirk, Obi-Wan followed Yoda and Mace fully into the room.

"I invited Anakin Skywalker for this meeting," Palpatine said conversationally. "For a young apprentice, his insight has always been most remarkable. I am disappointed he could not come. Where is he?"

The sudden and authoritative way Palpatine asked after Anakin jarred Obi-Wan.

"He was unable to come," he said sharply.

"What a pity," Palpatine said smoothly. "I trust that he is well?"

"Of course," Mace said with a small frown at Obi-Wan. It was not a Knight's place to speak out of turn in the presence of his Masters.

The Chancellor directed the Councillors to seats in front of his large ornate desk. Obi-Wan followed to stand composed behind his Masters. He wrapped his folded arms in his cloak as he wrapped patience around him in the Force. It was a failing of his that he had no patience with politicians, particularly with Palpatine and his sugarcoated verbosity. And the Chancellor's longstanding interest in his Padawan only served to irritate Obi-Wan further.

'_Acknowledging our shortcomings is the beginning of wisdom.'_

The bittersweet memory of Qui-Gon's advice overwhelmed him for some moments and he lost track of the first few words exchanged between Palpatine and his Masters.

"Don't you think so, Master Kenobi?" Palpatine asked suddenly.

On a subconscious level, Obi-Wan had heard them discussing recent Separatist activities and the Republic military but he had no idea of the current trend in the conversation. Without missing a beat, he said promptly: "I concur with my Masters."

"I am sure your Masters will permit you to speak freely," Palpatine insisted softly. He was standing, leaning against his large window, his face a shadow against the afternoon light. "I understand that you have a personal interest in this matter."

Before Obi-Wan could reply, Mace spoke up.

"The Jedi are all brethren," Mace said. "The missions of all Knights are of personal interest to every other Jedi." There was something like sternness in his voice. Now Obi-Wan really berated himself for losing track of the conversation.

"Forgive me, Masters," said Palpatine and the remorsefulness in his voice was thicker than Corellian rum. "I specifically asked Master Kenobi to accompany you because of my interest in his personal impute in this discussion. He was after all, the initiator of the Battle of Geonosis. Forgive me, but I cannot help but wonder why he and that his enterprising apprentice, young Skywalker, were not sent on the mission to Raxus Prime. After all, with Master Kenobi's personal connection to Count Dooku, I would have thought he would be more capable of carrying out the mission. Nevertheless, I am not a Jedi. No doubt there was some wisdom behind the decision that I will be unable to discern."

"Our own counsel we will keep, Chancellor," Yoda said at once.

"But of course," Palpatine replied.

At last, Obi-Wan got the gist of the discussion - it would have been hard not to after listening to Palpatine's lengthy tirade - and it was not to his liking at all. Whether the politician knew it or not, he had hit not one, not two, but several sore nerves when he mentioned Raxus Prime, Dooku and Anakin in one breath. The urge to retort sharply and sarcastically was overwhelming and Obi-Wan was grateful that the protocol of the occasion prevented him from speaking ahead of his Masters. He merely stared politely at Palpatine's undecipherable face while he kept an iron grip on his temper.

"I only ask because of the enormous pressure on me," Palpatine was saying now. "The Jedi are needed to be Generals of the Republic Army. There is no other way we can fight this war. Any other option will result in rivaling interest groups, accusations of misuse of power and segregation. As the guardians of peace and justice, the Jedi must…"

"Keep peace in the galaxy," Mace cut in. "So, the Senate is asking us to fight a war."

"One that will re-establish peace!" Palpatine's usually calm demeanor had dissolved in his passion to see this accomplished. "Already, your numbers are spread thin resolving the constant civil conflicts that plague us in this present climate. The Loyalist party that just left demanded that I order the Jedi to lead the army."

Obi-Wan jerked and even Yoda's ears curled up violently. Mace's voice was graver than usual when he spoke:

"Chancellor, surely…"

"Of course, I refused them," Palpatine said impatiently. "I will never do that, no matter what the constitution of the Republic says in that regard." His voice resumed its customary placid tenor as he continued, "But you see the unique position that I am in."

"Dooku's elimination, fractionate the individual parties in the Separatists' insurrection it will," Yoda said. "The centre that holds them together, he is."

The brisk callousness of Yoda's tone as he spoke of Dooku's death - in contrast to the sadness that Obi-Wan still remembered clearly barely hours ago - sent small shivers down Obi-Wan's back.

"If the mission to Raxus Prime is successful," Palpatine agreed softly.

"Trust in the Force, we do."

Which meant that they had no contingency plan, Obi-Wan interpreted cynically to himself. If Siri and Luminara failed in their task - _Force please no!_ - then the Jedi would be back to playing hide and seek with the politicians that wanted them stationed firmly at the head of the Clone Army.

There was a long pause while this same conclusion was reached by all the persons in the Chancellor's office. Palpatine had turned slightly so part of his profile was now lit up by the back light. There was a pensive expression on his face, as if he was thinking deeply. Then suddenly, so quickly that later Obi-Wan wondered if he had imagined it, a smile split across his face.

Obi-Wan blinked and the smile was gone. Palpatine's face had fallen back into shadow and he was speaking now.

"I have reason to understand that - "

Obi-Wan's heart clenched and the rest of the Chancellor's words were drowned out in the roar of sensation that bombarded him at that moment.

Somewhere close by a presence in the Force was burning with the intensity of a solar flame. The two Councillors were frozen still in their seats. Obi-Wan watched them exchange glances. They had sensed it too.

Obi-Wan's Padawan might have closed off his bond with his Master but it would be a long time before he learnt how to completely disguise that unnaturally powerful reflective presence he had in the Force.

Anakin was back.

* * *


	11. Crime…

**CHAPTER X**

**Crime… **

It was the first time in days that the Knight could sense his Padawan's presence nearby and that was not reassuring.

As he had left the Chancellor's room, Obi-Wan felt the displeasure of his Masters boring holes into the back. Masters Yoda and Windu had given him their permission to be excused very unwillingly. Yet for better or for worse, Obi-Wan's first priority was to his Padawan. He had COM'd ahead to the Temple and confirmed what he already knew – Anakin was on his way home. The erstwhile missing shuttle had been granted permission to land in the Temple.

Now Obi-Wan paced the docking bay restlessly. Anakin's shuttle would be landing soon and somehow between then and now he had to still the chaotic thoughts in his head. Experience had long-since taught him that it wouldn't do to try and lecture his errant Padawan until his own thoughts achieved some semblance of order. Somehow he finally managed to push the current situation on Raxus Prime, along with his worry for Siri and the other Jedi, to a back corner of his mind. That left plenty of room for squabbling Padawans and a hijacked shuttle.

Obi-Wan sighed, wishing he'd been surprised by the news that Anakin and Ferus were at odds again. The two had been rivals since the day they met, a strange thing in and of itself, since usually the most outgoing and gifted Padawans became fast friends. It was unfortunate, but he and Siri had long since given up hope that their apprentices would someday share a strong bond of friendship similar to their own.

Masters Yoda and Windu were rightfully upset by the tension between the two boys. Such open animosity was inappropriate between Jedi. Nevertheless, Obi-Wan found he understood the rivalry – even the darker, more violent outbursts Anakin seemed prone to. In his days as a young Padawan he'd shared a similar problem with another learner in the temple. Whenever he crossed paths with Bruck Chun Obi-Wan found himself giving in to an unreasonable anger. Later, when Bruck had been killed amidst questionable circumstance, Obi-Wan even went so far as to accept blame for the accident, though it had been in no way his fault. Thankfully Qui-Gon had been there to help him work through all of those issues.

He wanted desperately to help Anakin the same way, but none of his old master's tactics ever made a lasting impression on his own Padawan. It was almost as if Anakin didn't _want_ to make peace. Ferus's conduct didn't help matters either. Both young men seemed to almost enjoy their enmity and the constant friction it created. Those who spent time with the two of them knew it was only a matter of time before the tension would reach a level where confrontation was inevitable. That was probably what brought them to yesterday morning's little display.

The altercation in the gym combined with the missing diplomatic shuttle had spoken volumes to Obi-Wan. It hadn't taken phenomenal Jedi powers to connect the missing craft to his missing apprentice.

Yes, his Padawan had gone to Naboo - he'd bet his lightsaber on it - and now that Anakin had returned there would be consequences.

Obi-Wan had no sooner had the thought than vector alarms sounded to apprise the docking bay of an incoming craft. Bright blue lights flashed along the landing corridor as huge durasteel doors opened to Coruscant's late afternoon sky. A warm breeze swirled into the bay, twisting Obi-Wan's cloak around him. If it weren't for the task at hand it would have seemed almost a pleasant homecoming.

"CV-4 shuttle entering docking bay 753." An automated voice rang out through the vast open area as maintenance droids took their stations along the wall.

Moments later the _kappa-_class diplomatic shuttle floated in along the lighted track before settling into landing position. Retrojets discharged loudly in the relative silence of the bay.

Almost reluctantly, Obi-Wan walked slowly toward the ship. Anakin's presence was now so near that even through his obvious shielding, Obi-Wan could feel the vague but disturbed eddies of emotion radiating from his Padawan's aura.

Obi-Wan moved to stand at the foot of the landing ramp as it opened. Impatiently he waited, arms crossed, for his wayward apprentice to descend. It didn't take long.

There was a flash of black; Anakin appeared; and it was even worse than Obi-Wan expected. His expression was thunderous, his black cloak billowing dramatically. Anger radiated from him in waves. He gave no pause of acknowledgement. Marching purposely down the long ramp and past Obi-Wan, he didn't even spare his master a glance as he moved towards the exit.

A lesser man, perhaps one who hadn't soothed this boy through many a childhood illness or tantrum, might have let him pass unchallenged. Obi-Wan did not. He turned to follow at a brisk pace. There was no way Anakin was going to escape without some kind of explanation.

Anakin stopped in front of the exit, waving his palm at the sensor to open the door. The portal managed to slide open a fraction before Obi-Wan raised his own hand, using the Force to halt the mechanism.

He saw Anakin's shoulders square off defiantly, as if he expected a clash. The boy leaned forward against the wall, bracing himself with one outstretched arm.

He spoke then, without looking back. His husky baritone vibrated menacingly, betraying fury and no hint of weakness.

"Master, you don't want to do this now." It was clearly meant as a warning.

Obi-Wan didn't heed it. "If, by 'this' you mean talk about where you've been and why you stole a diplomatic shuttle to get there, you are absolutely wrong. Now is _exactly_ when I want to do this."

Anakin spun suddenly to face him and Obi-Wan found himself resisting the urge to reach for his lightsaber. He chastised himself silently. How ridiculous! This was his Padawan! Surely Anakin wouldn't draw a weapon against him in anger.

He met Anakin's eyes, surprised to see icy fire blazing in the familiar blue depths.

Anakin stared at him coldly, his mouth set in an obstinate line. "I've been to Naboo. To see Padmé."

"So I gathered." Obi-Wan responded in as calm and even a tone as he could manage. At this moment Anakin reminded him of one of the feral creatures that hunted rodents on Coruscant's lower levels. On the rare occasion they came close enough to touch, one couldn't be sure if petting them would yield a bite or an affectionate rub.

"What did you think I would do?" Anakin snapped. "Wait here for you to return?"

"Well…yes, actually." Obi-Wan responded in a bland voice. "That strikes me as a particularly reasonable thing for you to have done."

"After you left with Padmé? After you stole my assignment?"

"Stole your…" Oh, this was worse than he could've imagined. "I didn't steal your assignment."

"Then why did you take Padmé home to Naboo?" The sternness in Anakin's voice didn't waver and Obi-Wan had the feeling there was no way this argument could end well.

"I escorted the Senator home because she asked me to." It was the truth. Painful as it might be for Anakin to hear, he had to know it was Amidala who had made the choice to cut him out of the picture.

"_After_ you spoke to her, right?" Desperation seemed to be stealing the toughness from Anakin's voice. "_After_ you convinced her she had no business caring about me!"

"Anakin, I have no idea what you're talking about."

There was a pause and something other than cold anger flickered in Anakin's eyes. Pain? Then they turned icy again with determination and Obi-Wan instinctively steeled himself. Still when the retort he had expected came moments later, it took him by complete surprise.

It was with an effort that Obi-Wan kept his thoughts blank, feeling Anakin's mind reach out to his with chill fingers. It wasn't the comfortable touch he'd come to know during their years as master and Padawan. It was invasive. Cold. Probing. He resisted the urge to mentally push back against it.

Finally Anakin pulled away.

"You really don't, do you?" Anakin's tone was bitter and incredulous. He turned away. Through his shields, Obi-Wan could feel the distorted eddies of emotion swirling violently. They felt like pain.

It was more than Obi-Wan could bear. He had tried his best to remain stoic but failed utterly in the face of Anakin's misery. The anger was there, certainly, but he could now see that it masked a great deal of hurt. He'd never seen this boy he loved like a son so anguished. At that moment he would've done anything to absorb some of that suffering into his own body.

"I'm sorry, Anakin. I knew you'd be upset with me, but I honestly had no idea you would be hurt."

He tried to put a hand on his Padawan's shoulder only to have Anakin shake it off roughly.

"Do not pity me!" Oh but the anger was still very much there, burning brightly.

"Anakin, I know how you must –"

"You know nothing!" Anakin shouted. "Do not presume to tell me how I feel!"

Obi-Wan flinched, trying not to let the words hurt him. Anakin was angry and miserable and he was reacting like an injured animal. Obi-Wan should have known from past experience that his young apprentice was practically unreachable in his current state. The young Knight forced himself to push aside his feelings and look at the matter at hand objectively.

One thing was certain, Obi-Wan decided, Anakin _had _developed strong feelings for the lovely Senator from Naboo. If Amidala's condition on her own trip home was anything to go by, she reciprocated these feelings. For the first time Obi-Wan felt a wave of genuine gratitude to the young woman for her wisdom and strength. It hadn't been easy, but she had made a clean break before things went too far. Although Anakin had chased her to Naboo, it appeared his efforts had been in vain. From the state he was in Amidala must have succeeded in cutting their ties.

"Are you finished, Master?"

Anakin's voice was soft, almost calm. It was a deceit. It was the calm of repressed anger and it was very disrespectful. Obi-Wan bit back his instinctive retort. He would have to let it go for now. Perhaps Anakin would talk to him about it later, when the pain wasn't so raw. There was still another matter…

"About that shuttle you stole…" Obi-Wan motioned back over his shoulder to the ship.

"I _borrowed _it Master." Disdain laced his Padawan's words. "I brought it back in good condition."

Obi-Wan raised a brow dubiously. "I'm not sure the council understands the subtle distinction."

"I don't care what the council understands!" Anakin's temper exploded once more. "Right now I don't care about anything!"

That was the final straw! Good intentions be damned. "You'd better start to care, Anakin, and quickly! There are matters going on right now that require my attention and I don't have time to deal with a sullen child!" His voice had been quiet at first, but by the time he spoke the last word he was shouting. Obi-Wan's reservoir of patience had finally run out.

"Well then," Anakin replied coldly. "I will solve your problem by removing myself from your presence." He turned quickly, flashing his hand across the door panel. This time it opened easily and Anakin started off down the corridor without a backward glance.

Obi-Wan was about to call him back when his com-link buzzed insistently.

"Anakin!" He shouted after his Padawan's retreating form while pulling the com device from his belt. "This conversation isn't finished!"

Anakin gave no indication that he heard as he continued down the hallway.

Obi-Wan gave a long-suffering sigh before activating the com-link.

"Kenobi."

"Obi-Wan." It was Master Windu. "Your presence is requested in the Council Chambers immediately."

* * *

Ferus strode quickly through the hallways. Had anyone stopped him to question his destination he would've been hard pressed to come up with an answer. He had no idea where he was going, but forward motion seemed essential. His head spun with a combination of concern, puzzlement and regret. Worry for Siri's safety, confusion over the secrecy of her mission and repentance that he had not taken the time to listen to her explanation.

Adding to the chaos of swirling thoughts about his master was a wave of pure frustration at Barriss Offee for playing superior during their exchange in the library. Barriss was without a doubt the most perceptive Padawan he knew. From their earliest days in the crèche she had a way of cutting through any façade he projected right to the core of what he was feeling. Oftentimes she would bring things to light that were a complete revelation even to him, but no less true for his ignorance. It was a trait that never failed to prick his ire and lead to verbal sparring. Conversations between them always turned into arguments even when they didn't disagree.

In fact, it was Barriss's exceptional perceptiveness that made her close friendship with Anakin Skywalker so puzzling. Skywalker was a mass of contradictions. Just being near him was like drowning in a Force thunderstorm. Surely Barriss could feel it!

Despite Barriss's exasperating traits and her poor taste in friends, Ferus was forced to admit that he respected her almost as much as he respected his own master. She reminded him so much of himself. Not in proficiency – though she was extremely skilled – but rather in her respect for Jedi ways and traditions. She believed as he did, that the Jedi were peace keepers and that conflicts should be avoided or settled without violence whenever possible. More than any other Padawan Barriss understood what it meant to be a Jedi. Though he'd never tell her, Ferus considered her a shining jewel of the Order. She would make an outstanding Knight – someone he looked forward to serving beside.

It was true, what she'd said to him earlier. He did want the approval of the council, but he wanted _her_ approval as well – perhaps even more – and it was the very thing that always eluded him. When the other Padawans offered congratulations over his latest victory or success, Barriss just looked the other way. When she did bother to speak to him it was usually only to point out where he'd fallen short in the effort.

Then, today she'd called him a hypocrite! _He_ wasn't the one cloaking himself to sneak around, having visions, and second-guessing the council's decisions! She really had been hanging around Anakin too long! It was obvious that the Chosen One's flaws were now rubbing off on Barriss and the knowledge filled Ferus with inexplicable fury. If Barriss, someone he'd always considered incorruptible, could be changed, what would come next?

His blood turned cold as he imagined Master Windu turning to the dark side or Master Yoda renouncing the Jedi Order. Extreme possibilities? Yes, but those were the kinds of changes he most feared. They were the very things that made Anakin Skywalker a danger to himself and to all Jedi. He definitely was _not_ the one burying his head in the sand!

* * *

Anakin stormed through the corridors of the temple in search of a quiet place to gather his thoughts. His quarters? No. It would be far too likely he would end up dealing with Obi-Wan again and he wasn't ready for that.

The Council would be calling him soon to answer for his temporary desertion. He had very little time to marshal his thoughts and bring his anger under control. He'd thought he had a rein on his temper when he left the ship, but finding Obi-Wan waiting for him had sent fury boiling through him anew. Even now that he knew his master had no part in convincing Padmé to push him aside, he still couldn't shake the anger. He had felt anger before but not like this. It enflamed him like a raging forest fire, threatening to blaze and destroy every thing in its part.

And he embraced it.

Better rage than crippling, killing agony. Even now he found himself seized with the absurd desire to shatter the lamps illuminating the hallways. It would be so easy, to reach out with his mind and explode the small bulbs as he passed them…

He turned a corner and found himself suddenly face to face with Ferus Olin. Only the lightning Jedi reflexes of both men kept them from colliding. They stopped inches from each other and glared. It was a narrow corridor and an even narrower turn. Wordlessly each seemed to indicate the other should be the one to move aside.

"Out of my way Olin!" Anakin snarled, his voice low. He was very short on patience right now and had none to spare for the man he considered his rival.

An uncharacteristic fire flared in Ferus's eyes and with surprise Anakin realized Ferus was struggling with his own wrath. It poured from him in waves so strong Anakin could almost taste it. The rush of satisfaction he felt at the knowledge caught him off guard.

For a split second Anakin wondered what had happened to put the usually unflappable Ferus in such a base emotional state, but his curiosity paled as his adrenaline surged.

He repeated his demand in a low voice. "I said get out of my way!"

Ferus didn't move. "That" he growled in response "is your problem, Skywalker. You think the entire galaxy should move aside for you!"

"Not the galaxy, Olin. Just you." Anakin's eyes were cold and icy blue, his mouth set in a sneer.

Ferus set his own in an uncompromising line. "It isn't going to happen this time." He folded his arms across his chest and refused to budge.

Like a too-tight cable, Anakin's temper snapped. Without a thought he drew back his arm and sent his fist flying towards Ferus.

A Force attack would have been expected, but not this blatant physical onslaught. The punch caught the older boy on the chin with a loud crack, sending him sprawling backwards. He staggered, but managed to regain his footing. He raised his eyes to Anakin.

All the poisonous anger and hatred Anakin had been carrying in his soul was concentrated in a single glare at the other boy; and from the look in Ferus' eyes, the identical feeling was reflected back at him.

_Come on, boy, _Anakin goaded silently. _Just give me a reason._

Ferus did. He appeared to think for only a split second before launching himself back at Anakin.

Anakin had a micro-fraction of a second to register his gratifying surprise. Ferus was going to fight back! Anakin had finally smacked his insufferable rival: finally succeeded in pushing Ferus beyond the boundaries of his Jedi discipline.

Then the moment passed. Anakin met Ferus halfway and both went down in a tangle of swinging fists and kicks.

Ferus' fist flew out at once, cutting Anakin sharply across the jaw. In response, Anakin grabbed the arm of that punch, bent on one knee, twisted hard and sent Ferus flying over his shoulder. Ferus was on his feet and on top of Anakin almost at once. Both were skilled combatants, seeking and finding vulnerable targets, trading blows furiously. Though Anakin knew Ferus was giving as well as he was getting, he wasn't conscious of the pain from his injuries. In place of the pain was a satisfaction so intense it bordered on joy. The feeling rushed through him, blinding him to all else. The sheer release of all the emotions he had been carrying in him since Naboo, since Geonosis, since Tatooine… It was like Tatooine again but without the Dark Side… Hit. Hit. Punch. Slash. Twist. Sheer uncomplicated violence numbing out the pain, the ache… And it was no longer Ferus' limbs hitting at him, no longer Ferus' face he was seeing but Dooku's, Nute Gunray's… and yes, Obi-Wan's face… the faces of the Council members…

It wasn't until a strong burst of Force energy sent them both flying in opposite directions that Anakin regained any sense of where he was.

As he felt himself slam into a wall opposite Ferus he heard a strong voice ring out. "Enough!"

* * *


	12. …and Punishment

**CHAPTER XI**

…**and Punishment**

"…As for you, Master Kenobi, you will not speak to your Padawan until he has carried out our request. When Master Tachi returns, you will both appear before the Council with your Padawans. In the meantime, Padawan Skywalker resides in solitude."

The instinctive disinclination of the young Knight was tangible in his aura. He tempered it quickly but it was noted all the same.

The ripples of antipathy that still radiated between the two Padawans was another matter entirely.

"Padawans, it is our sincere wish that by the time you have completed your duties, you would _both _have learnt a means of correcting your failings."

There was an uncompromising silence.

"You may all go now."

Protests were not in order. The Council had given its decision and its decision was final. Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi bowed deeply and the two Padawans, his own Anakin Skywalker on his right, and Ferus Olin on his left, bowed a half-second after him.

The three men left the Council meeting chamber and the Councilors in a mood of deep depression.

"Disappointed I am in those two," Yoda declared. "Disappointed bitterly."

"As I am, Master Yoda," said Kit Fisto. "Now is not the time for our young ones to display such rank disunity."

"I had hopes for those Padawans," Agen Kolar said suddenly. All heads turned to him. The Zabrak Jedi had been a man of fewer words than action since Geonosis and contributions from him to the Council in non-military matters were rare. "I thought they had attained the maturity to start handling missions on their own. I guess I was wrong."

Master Yoda's eyes bored through Kolar and his ears twitched but he said nothing.

"Skywalker and Olin are the leaders of their peer group," Stass Allie said gently. "The rivalry between them is not so unexpected. Give them time; they will grow out of it."

"Do peer groups have leaders?" questioned Ki-Adi-Mundi pedantically.

No-one answered him. What was and what should be were never the same thing in the galaxy, and the Jedi Order was no exception.

"We are facing conflict on so many sides - Dooku and his Sith accomplice, the hostility from the Senate. We simply cannot afford to have these internal conflicts, no matter how juvenile they may seem now," Mace Windu said sternly.

The very air in the Council chambers seemed to echo with all the disturbing implications of his words.

"Masters," said Agen Kolar, breaking the pensive silence, "what were the Chancellor's wishes?"

Briefly, Mace Windu gave his fellow Councilors an outline of the earlier meeting with Chancellor Palpatine. Very little had been resolved after Obi-Wan's first abrupt departure from the Senate Dome. The Council maintained its right to "pick and choose" - in the words of Senator Aak whom Palpatine quoted - their battles in the Clone Wars. They refused to commit to a full participation until their top-secret hidden mission - the assassination of Dooku - had borne fruition.

The deadlock between the Senate and the Temple remained.

Only now the Chancellor seemed to be on the Senators' side.

"The consequences of this war being won without Jedi participation may be worth our consideration," Aayla Secura said quietly.

There was a sharp little whistle in the chamber as if a cool breeze had just rushed through it.

But there was no wind.

"The Dark Side clouds even the Temple," Windu said slowly. "Every decision we take must be made with the most extreme caution."

"It is affecting the powers of some of the Knights," the Healer Stass Allie added softly. "I have seen it in the Healing Centre. More and more older Knights are having increasing difficulties hearing the Force… or working through it."

Agen Kolar barked harshly. "I have seen it on the battle field." He flexed a paw. "I have even seen it in myself." And when he looked balefully at his comrades, the accusation in his eyes was clear:

_As we all have seen it in ourselves at one time or the other._

This time the silence that followed was a guilty, apprehensive one.

Almost a _fearful _one.

And wasn't fear of the Dark Side?

Aayla Secura broke the silence with the mental gasp of someone who had just broken through the surface to seize lungful of breath after nearly being drowned. The aura of the chamber was filled with several identical gasps.

"No word from Raxus Prime yet?" She asked redundantly. They all knew there had not been.

All heads in the Council room shook but one.

All eyes turned to Master Yoda.

The old Jedi was bent so low over his couch that his ears almost touched his folded knees. His eyes were shut tight.

The Force was with him. In a way that it could only be with one whom had known It for eight hundred years.

There was a hush of expectancy and of awe as every Jedi in the chamber waited in bated breaths for the ancient Master to come out of his trance.

* * *

The aura of the Ficca plants for replanting was a gentle, patient flutter in the Force as they waited meekly in the nursery foil by Anakin's knees. Their Viari flowers were the colors of a beautiful Corellian sky blue. Large teardrop shaped petals wove in and out of each other. But they were delicate, prone to falling off in showers when not handled properly. Anakin dug his hands deep into the soil, breaking it, softening it with his fingers. It was so different from the dead sand of Tatooine. Damp, soft, and full of life. It did not make him hate gardening any less. It was obvious why Master Yoda has chosen it as Anakin's punishment… or rather _duty. _Jedi did not hand out _punishments_. 

Indeed.

When Anakin and the other Padawans were still very young they had been taught to use the Force for horticultural production and care. They were given pots of dying Madalenga grass to care for. Their task was to create the opportunity for it to thrive again and in one standard week. Anakin had spent many hours staring at the Madalenga, poking its yellow tendrils and trying to figure out how to make the thing just _work_ again. He had even tried to use the Force as if fixing the small and intricate parts of a droid. The reward for his pains was Master Unduli scolding him for _thinking_ too much, instead of just listening:

"_The Madalenga is a living entity; it will tell you what it requires. You must listen to it Padawan." _

Anakin snorted now at the irony of his current situation. It was his _not_ thinking which had got him into trouble now, wasn't it? Not thinking. For ten years he had been taught not to think, but to feel. He had done so with Padmé and where had it got him? Like these wretched plants needed water to survive, he needed Padmé. With every fiber of his being. There was no doubt in his mind and in his perception of the Force. _Why_ didn't anyone understand? No one could. No one wanted to. Not even Padmé who was as maddeningly close-minded as the rest of the Jedi.

Viciously, he grabbed one of the plants and immediately stung his hand on its red thorny leaves. He hissed sharply, drawing back his hand at once and his eyes narrowed. In the back of his mind Anakin remembered that in its native Corellia, Viari meant "tears from the heavens." How could something so innocuous-looking be so dangerous?

"_Every creature needs a mechanism for survival." _

The stinging in his hand worsened as he shoved the plant ruthlessly into its allotted soil, a dozen petals dropping in protest. He bit his lip hard, remembering how the same hand had been injured only days before. Feeling the Force around him and through him Anakin tried to will away the sting. But the Force was not responding to his frustration. It had been happening since he left Naboo. His ability to use the Force now was limited at best, and it couldn't have been because of the Dark Side cloud that hovered above all the Jedi. Normally the cloud did not seem to affect Anakin. He couldn't understand what was happening now - now even the most elementary actions of telekinesis with the Force needed intense concentration of emotion on his part. So he was vulnerable after all to the virus that was affecting the Order. It had pleased him to think that he might just be too powerful. Despite himself, he smirked. Try telling that to Yoda, or Ferus.

_Ferus_.

The name brought to mind some colorful Huttese phrases. They were followed by unpleasant memories of his censure in front of the Council.

"_Acting like an initiate you are. Learn to control your anger you must!"_

It was the closest to annoyed Anakin had ever seen Yoda.

He couldn't have cared less.

So his punishment was to work in the gardens, as it would take patience and a calm mind. Working in harmony with living things was difficult, a lesson Yoda insisted Anakin needed to re-learn. Another lesson was:

"_Need to learn who your allies are you do."_

_Those_ words had stabbed him directly in the heart and he had had to fight to keep breathing normally. The Jedi Council room was not a place to lose your control.

Movement at the corner of his eye made him raised his head now. A pair of Padawans were entering the Arboreteum, heads bowed in quiet conversation. Angrily, Anakin returned to his work. Who had he expected to see? Obi-Wan? His Master had all but betrayed him. On hindsight, it was good that he had not run into his Master on Naboo. He could not fathom what he would have done.

Images of sand and death and his mother's tortured face sprang to mind.

_No._

Anakin's breath caught in his throat.

_No. _

Viari petals shedded violently as he forced the roots into the ground as fiercely as he forced himself to try and forget about his mother's death, about what he had done. He _needed _to forget; and it wasn't just because he was shamed by it.

He needed to forget because in darkest recesses of his tangled heart he had _enjoyed_ it. And he _still_ enjoyed the memory of his power, his strength, his murders.

The worst part was that Padmé had seen him like that, had felt his wrath, had seen his weakness. She had been horrified and repulsed: her emotions had slammed into him through the Force. He had barely felt them for the pain that already echoed through him… _their_ pain.

But Padmé had forgiven him. Because of love. He had felt that as well and he had accepted it as a man dying of thirst would accept a glass of water. Her love and forgiveness were the only things that had made him go on.

Not anymore. Now there was nothing. The Jedi? The Jedi had never cared. His own Master had broken their sacred bond, in more ways than one. Anakin had not forgotten that he had thought of Obi-Wan when he fought with Ferus. The Council did not know how wise they were to keep him and Obi-Wan apart.

His mother was dead.

So now he had nothing but these plants. These infernal plants that did nothing but remind Anakin of the lush green world of Naboo, the world he wanted desperately to despise and could not, and of how he had so little control over living things.

_See what your Chosen One of the Force has become? See what love and compassion and loyalty have done to his soul?_

Desperately, Anakin drove both his hands deep into the soil, trying to connect to something- to life or the Force- but he felt nothing, as if his entire body was made of the same miserable biosteel as his hand. He stared up into the diffused lighting grid above, wishing it was the familiar hot sun of Tatooine that he knew as a child.

"Anakin?"

He did not raise his head. Detachedly, he recognized the voice calling him as Barriss Offee's. He had not sensed her approach in the Force.

That was no longer surprising.

* * *

Barriss had been standing in the corner of the Arboreteum and watching her fellow Padawan for long moments. She could not decide which was more intimidating: the blank expression of an automaton on Anakin's face as he worked, or his sporadic and violent efforts at gardening. As long as Barriss had known him he preferred to be alone when troubled. But somehow she knew this was infinitely more serious than struggling with his training. In the end, it was the very things that had repulsed her that made her determine to approach him. 

"How is the planting going?" She asked slowly as she drew nearer to him. She could easily see how his progress was coming. Several Ficca plants lay haphazardly on the floor. The Viari flower was crooked, obviously put into the earth carelessly. There was soil all over Anakin's tunic.

His shoulders twitched slightly but he did not respond, not even to raise his head.

"Here, let me help you. I know how good you are with plants." Barriss said with no small irony and knelt down beside him.

He finally turned his head toward her. Her Healer's eye noted with some approval the work the other Healers must have done on his face. She had glimpsed him and Ferus as they came out of the Council chambers – both had stared stonily past her – and they had been sharing a remarkable collage of bright, identical bruises. Now the slight cut on his lower lip was the only indication of his brawl.

He stared back at her with a blank expression of someone who did not recognize who he was looking at. Then he turned back to his work.

Now was probably not the time to mention that he had missed his bacta treatment.

Barriss hastily cleaned up the dirt and spent several minutes re-potting the Ficcas. She had to keep herself from stealing furtive glances at Anakin's troubled face. Rather, she tried to unobtrusively prod his mind for answers, but his shields were firmly in place. Rumor had it that he snuck away from Coruscant on a diplomatic shuttle. That combined with Anakin's behavior toward Ferus, no matter how much he probably deserved it, was bringing Anakin perilously close to the Dark Side. With the Healer's bond that was still between them, she could feel its insidious fingers grasping for his mind. According to Ferus' testimony to the Council, Anakin had "lost it" and "obviously doesn't know his Master as well as he should." Barriss knew Ferus well enough to guess that he must have played up the part of the victim. All the same, she could tell he was genuinely shaken. Long had Ferus and Anakin held onto this rivalry, but until now it had always had some semblance of civility. Between her only angry confrontation with Ferus and his encounter with Anakin, the rivalry was spiraling into an ugly state of affairs. She had no idea of the reason for it. And she had no idea why Master Obi-Wan would finish Anakin's mission, without consulting him first, thus leaving his Padawan in such a state. She supposed that the Council must have their reasons for separating the two men – Obi-Wan and Anakin – even longer; but Barriss could not see it.

Barriss sighed softly beneath her breath. It was a sad thing to admit to but she was glad of Anakin's troubles and the fact that she could be of some help to him. Ferus had been wrong when he accused her of wanting to confide in Anakin. Given a choice, Barriss would rather dwell on Anakin's troubles than on her own. Anakin would have wanted her confidence: in his less egocentric moments, Anakin had one of the most generous and attentive hearts she had ever known. But there was an unspoken rule in their relationship that _hers_ was the shoulder he cried on, not the other way around. Barriss for one liked it that way.

All the Ficca had been replanted. Automatically tapping the soil into place, Barriss glanced around the Arboretum. It was largely empty except for two Padawans talking in hushed tones in a corner about 15 meters away and Master Kolar meditating amongst the thick vines of the Tiim'ka tree, eyes closed. She moved closer to Anakin, who was staring blankly at the finished work, and lightly touched his shoulder. He flinched as if she'd punched him.

"Is there anything you would like to talk about, Anakin?" she asked, her voice as soothing as possible.

"What? No… no thank you, I'm fine." He turned his gaze to his dirt covered hands.

"Anakin, you know you cannot lie to me. What is it that's troubling you? Ferus? Obi-Wan?"

Several tense moments pass. When at last he spoke his voice was harsh whisper. "Why would she just leave? How could she…?" Deep blue eyes finally looked into hers, pleading for an answer.

_She._ Senator Amidala.

At the edge of discovery, Barriss tried to curtail her eagerness and again, she spoke in soft tones, trying to hold his gaze. "I don't know Anakin. Senator Amidala must have been in an urgent rush to leave. Maybe the Force told Master Kenobi that she was in danger and needed to leave immediately."

"Danger." He spoke the word with bitter irony.

"Anakin, is there something about your relationship with the Senator…?"

"The _Senator's_ name is Padmé," he interrupted, tearing his eyes away from hers. Another tense moment passed and then, "and she doesn't want to see me anymore."

"See you?" Barriss' head swam with a hundred speculations - all of them unfitting for a Jedi. _Anakin wouldn't…_

"She left… left to do her _duty_," he continued cryptically. "And Obi-Wan left to do his."

"Anakin I don't-"

He stood up suddenly, looking wildly around at the room's inhabitants. Out of the corner of her eye Barriss saw Master Kolar subtly glance in their direction.

"Over there…" he pointed to the West corner, "I have to go take care of the Alaxsed. If I don't the spores will turn poisonous and kill everything around it. Master Yoda would be very upset."

And in a sudden passion for duty, Anakin made his way to the ferns by the West entrance, as far away from the plants and her as possible. Barriss remained kneeling on the grassy floor next to the planting boxes, overcome with anxiety. The Force showed her a frightening glimpse of the poison slowly creeping around Anakin himself, threatening him and everything the Jedi held sacred.

* * *

Yoda opened his eyes. He reeled back and a tear fell from his jaw and dropped on the marble floor with a sound like the single tinkle of a very tiny glass bell. 

Only the violet sunset filtering through the huge plasti-glass windows told him that he had wandered for hours.

Pairs of eyes of many shapes and types shone brightly and eagerly at him.

"There is word from Raxus Prime." His voice was gravelly, the sound coming from a thirst-parched throat, nothing more. Eight hundred years of dispassion would not be unlearned in a few hours of bleak communion with the Force.

On cue, the transmitter embedded in Mace Windu's chair burst to life.

"Jedi Fighter 179 just entered Coruscant space zone," said a mechanical voice.

"Facillitate immediate landing," Mace said briskly. He turned off the transmitter and turned to Yoda.

Yoda had got to his feet and was walking slowly, very slowly to the window. His moss-colored eyes blinked at the other Jedi through his reflection. When he spoke, his words sent a frission of

_(Fear was of the Dark Side)_

trepidation through every Jedi in the Temple.

"The Dark Side clouds everything."

* * *

"_The Dark Side clouds everything."_

The frisson of trepidation shattered Barriss' fragile calm and she shivered. It passed like a small quake, leaving its wake of disruption behind it. With another sigh, she started picking up the petals of the flower that had shredded under Anakin's care.

With Anakin gone, Barriss had been left in the company of her thoughts and all her

_(Jedi do not fear)_

apprehension for her Master had returned to the fore. For the zenith time that day, Barriss reached through the Master-Padawan bond she shared with Luminara. Once again, nothing. If Master Luminara were here she would scold Barriss severely for the fruitless brooding that Barriss had indulged in since the Councillors had broken the news to her this morning. Yet Barriss could not help it.

What _had_ Ferus said?

"_We are both overreacting."_

He was insufferable but Force, she certainly hoped he was right. She was no longer upset about her earlier argument with him. The feeling of irritation had dispelled almost as soon as she left the Archives Centre. What was left was intense disappointment.

It was not so much that Ferus had not been _able_ to understand - he had. But that he had not wanted to _admit_ that he understood was what hurted her. Now surrounded by the soothing plants of the Arboreteum, her mind trying to fight away her worries about her Master, she could hardly credit the anger which she had felt earlier. She would have to seek him out and apologise to him. Not right away of course, now that he was probably still reeling from his own tiff with Anakin. But soon enough.

And as if conjured by her thoughts, the distinctive Force presence of Ferus Olin filtered through the wild aura of the living plants in the Arboreteum and approached her.

Suddenly, Barriss was gripped by a sensation of tangible

_(Jedi do not fear)_

worry so strong that she felt nauseous. She bent over the plants, using calming techniques to regulate her breathing. She did not look up when his shadow fell on her.

"Padawan Offee."

She had to look up. His face was pale and stern where it hovered above her. Barriss rose to her feet and looked him in the eye. He looked away at once. Absentmindedly she noted the tiny red line at his temple – a souvenir from his encounter with Anakin, no doubt.

"You've been summoned by the Council." His voice was odd. She had expected it to be cool after their last meeting and it was, but in a forced, pretended way.

He turned to go and Barriss reached out and held him. He paused without turning.

"Ferus? What is it?"

"The Council will inform…"

She gripped his arm so hard that she could feel her nails sink through his robes, almost into his flesh. He hissed in sharply and there was a short silence. She knew it was short because it lasted as long as the heave of his shoulders; otherwise, it might have been an eternity.

He still did not turn around.

"The contingent to Raxus Prime just returned," he said finally in that forced cool voice. "You are to be debriefed."

To be debriefed? Weren't she and Ferus both to do the debriefing? Was it no longer customary for the Padawan to stand beside her Master in front of the Council, solo assignment or no solo assignment?

And why couldn't Ferus look her in the eye?

"What is going on? _Ferus!_" Was that her voice she heard? Weak and imploring. It had to be, she supposed. There was no one else in the Arboreteum except Master Kolar.

"Please, Barriss," and his voice was now as pleading as hers, "just come." Then he was out of her grip and walking quickly away from her.

_Master Luminara!_

She should have been right there in the Temple. She should have heard Barriss. The other end of the ten-year-old bond remained silent. It would remain silent forever.

As Barriss followed Ferus, every hastening step echoing with the rapid beating of her heart, deep inside her, she already knew.

* * *


	13. Developments, Concluded

CHAPTER XII

**Developments, Concluded**

It was with heavy steps that Obi-Wan made his way out of the Healing Ward. He had just been with Masters Yoda and Windu to speak to Master Adi Gallia. Getting her first-hand recount of the foiled mission on Raxus Prime was a horrendous experience. Although, Obi-Wan corrected himself bitterly, the mission had not been a _complete_ failure. The clone soldiers had defeated the droid army station there and that Separatist world had been recovered by the Republic. But it was a hollow victory. The main objective of the mission had been to assassinate Count Dooku. Not only had he escaped, he had killed a Jedi as well.

There would be an emergency meeting between the Jedi Council and the Loyalist Committee of the Republic at noon that day. The Council had finally come to a decision on the Jedi position in the Wars. Obi-Wan had no illusions what that decision would be. He had been asked to come to the meeting and he had excused himself at once. He could still feel Master Yoda's disapproving gaze as Obi-Wan left him and Siri Tachi in the Healing Ward.

But the Knight needed time to think, to clear his head. Luminara was dead, and Anakin nearly out of control. He rarely allowed himself the luxury of self pity, but these days… A slight twinge of misery had been slowly furrowing his brow and corrupting his usual genial countenance with a frown.

So he moved. Walking the passageways of the Temple normally calmed him. The bustling of Jedi and droids gave a welcome sense of community that was hard to duplicate on missions with just himself and Anakin. Though, he had to admit to himself, despite the usual trials his Padawan put him through, the boy was often pleasant and intelligent company. But today he did not feel like being anywhere near the presence of others, least of all Anakin. Not that he had any choice in that matter. Until the Council deemed Anakin suitably corrected, the boy resided in solitude. Obi-Wan had been forbidden from seeing him.

The twinge of anger he had felt at the Council's orders flared up in him again and Obi-Wan had to focus hard to diffuse it.

Carefully trying not to broadcast his inner turmoil, the Knight walked determinedly, but with no particular destination. Obi-Wan _was_ determined, determined to _do_ something. Just now he was too conflicted to ask the Force for answers. He needed to _act_. He didn't notice the white plastisteel door of the Arboretum until he had passed it three times.

Slowing his gait to a stop, he stood in front of the entrance. Detecting his presence, the automated doors swooshed open to reveal something which had no business in the hard, lifeless durasteel skies of Coruscant. Half a kilometer of lush vegetation spread out before him. The fresh, clean smell and the unmistakable feeling of life in the Force permeated the air. The trees, the plants, the flowers, all had a pure connection to the Force. Life intertwined with life. There was no pushing and pulling, but a pure harmony that humans, even Jedi, could only strive to achieve. Some Jedi had a hard time sensing the nature of this connection, but to Obi-Wan it had always been intuitive. It was where he usually came to meditate, away from his living quarters and the Council Chambers, and away from Anakin's unusual ability to bother him at the most regretful of times.

Obi-Wan stepped fully inside, feeling the gentle pressure of air on his back as the doors slid shut and casually surveyed his surroundings. He could sense the presence of several Jedi. They were all in various states of connectivity to the Force, all receiving communion from its life-nourishing strength and power… all except one.

Obi-Wan turned northwest and immediately recognized Barriss Offee, Luminara's Padawan. She was sitting cross-legged under a Red Sythian tree looking her usual serene self. But Obi-Wan could sense no connection to the Force. That serene face hid a closed soul.

He approached slowly, aligning himself from the grass beneath his boots upward to the diffused sunlight above. When he reached her, he wordlessly sat beside her and stared straight ahead. Around them, Jedi came and went; insects sang in the trees. He kept his mind blank, trying not to dwell on anything – not the impending Clone Wars nor his wayward Padawan – but only on the suffering that Barriss must have hidden beneath that placid exterior. Then he tried sending out subtle waves of comfort through the Force even though it was a comfort that he himself did not feel.

At first there was no response, her mental block so solid not even a hint of emotion leaked through. But as the minutes passed by, Obi-Wan detected a pin-prick of hesitation in her resolve. Through it he felt an ache so familiar that it pierced his heart. He had been feeling it all too often as of late. It frightened him. Jedi do not know fear. Heart weighing heavily down, he felt it finally time to speak.

He began slowly, not even turning to look at her.

"Master Yoda would say, 'she is one with the Force now'. He would tell you how she is now pure and free of this mortal life. Her sacrifice was for all Jedi, for the greater good of the Galaxy." It was an effort to keep the bitterness out of his voice, out of his soul.

Barriss was silent.

Obi-Wan sighed deeply.

"But I know that is of little comfort."

For several moments the words hung in the air.

She spoke at last. "I know …" she breathed. Her voice was thick and empty. "But I was…unprepared for this outcome." She raised her face stoically at the older Jedi, almost succeeding in her pretense.

And looking into her face, into her soul, Obi-Wan suddenly realized what had drawn him to Barriss Offee at this moment in time. It was not the shared loss of Luminairi Unduli. It was not even his selfish desire to distract himself from his anxiety over Anakin. Being with Barriss Offee was like being beside a distorted, time-warped reflection of himself.

Padawan Kenobi, barely twenty-five seasons old. Blocking out the pain and confusion, as he bore the loss of his beloved Master Qui-Gon Jinn.

Ten years had come and gone. And the buried wound, deeply hidden as it was, was still an aching throbbing sore.

Obi-Wan sighed again and closed his eyes. What he was about to say, he had rarely spoken of but his desire to reach out and comfort this Padawan was stronger than his reserve.

"I also lost my Master, nearly ten years ago. And for all our training to the contrary, I still feel the pain of it to this day. The path of the Jedi is not easy, for any of us. If you would ever like to speak of it, I am always listening, Barriss."

He opened his eyes and looked at her face. He felt the intensity of her gaze, of her aura as she reached out to probe… as if to test his sincerity… Then at last:

"Thank you. Master Kenobi." The Padawan gave the Knight a painful smile.

The moments passed between them, pregnant with expectation as he felt her prepare to speak again and he made himself prepare to answer her with wisdom and with strength.

Nevertheless when she did speak, all the moments of preparation he had spent were for nothing.

"I know that Master Qui-Gon died defending Senator Amidala and Naboo against a Sith lord, you were there were you not?"

Obi-Wan's breath caught in his throat. The mention of Qui-Gon, Amidala and the Sith all in one breath brought back images his mind often chose not to connect; all of them were causes of concern.

And pain.

He was still trying to work his way through that unhappy haze when she spoke quickly, words that Obi-Wan should have anticipated:

"If only I could have been with my Master…"

Her words stung him and he forced a reply out of the tightening in his throat. "My presence did _not_ help Qui-Gon," he said firmly. "It only served to delay the inevitable."

Obi-Wan knew almost at once from the look on the Padawan's face that his answer had disappointed her. She turned her attention back to the plants before her and this time, it seemed that her disconnection to the Force was more acute than before.

This was the problem with Anakin. Like Barriss now, Obi-Wan knew how his Padawan felt; but somehow, he always failed to communicate his empathy correctly. Even worse, Anakin never seemed to see how hard Obi-Wan tried.

Obi-Wan was determined to succeed with this Padawan.

"We, the Jedi, were the naïve ones, not seeing that the Sith had returned," he declared. Her face lifted up at once and he continued, gratified. "I was young, and lucky in my defeat of Darth Maul but we all lost that day, as we have this day. Luminara was a remarkable Jedi and a good friend."

"Yes, she was, and I will honor her always. '_But we must not dwell on that we cannot change.'_" Barriss now repeated Yoda's words hollowly. She stared down where her strong fingers were grasping onto the fine blades of grass. "But I should have known… she should not have gone alone… perhaps I could have healed her." And her quiet whisper melted into the ground. "At least you _were_ there."

"I was but that doesn't make it any easier." It had not. It still did not. Instead, the fact that he had been there and had still been powerless to save Qui-Gon only made it worse.

"Sometimes I wonder how any man can trust in the Force at times like this," Obi-Wan said quietly. Qui-Gon had been a good man, a _great _man. He had loved the Force and served it well. How could the Force have allowed one of Its own die at the hands of his enemy?

And more so to Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon had been his protector, his teacher, his _father_. He had been the centre of Obi-Wan's world for so long. When his Master died, for a long time, Obi-Wan's world had been thrown into darkness.

His _father_.

With the sudden shock of a thunderclap, Obi-Wan he realized what his Padawan must also be going through.

Anakin's _mother._

Obi-Wan closed his eyes in shame. _Mother._ Intellectually he understood what this meant, even sympathetically. But could he ever truly understand? Could any Jedi?

"Did Anakin ever tell you that he also lost his mother?"

The words flew out of Obi-Wan's mouth almost as if he had no control over them.

"His mother died!" The shock in her voice was palpable. Her stoic tranquility had shattered. He could feel the questions rolling off her.

_How?_

_When?_

_How had Anakin known?_

"Anakin has lost so many he loved." He really had no control over his words. _Love?_ It was a foreign word, one that he did not quite feel was appropriate to say; yet, it was perfectly right all the same.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and turned to the Padawan. "He lost Qui-Gon, too. He was very attached to Qui-Gon. Remember, he was just a child…"

Barriss' expression of shocked sympathy warred with an inquisitive interest she could not mask. "He never speaks of it. Of how you found him."

That was as it should be. Although there had been no outright order to secrecy, the Council had deeply impressed on Obi-Wan and Anakin that they should not discuss in too much detail the circumstances surrounding Anakin's discovery. It would be easier for Anakin to adjust to his new life if it had no connection to the old at all.

At the point in time, Obi-Wan had followed the Council's counsel to the letter. Now, as it seemed to happen so often of late, he doubted the wisdom of that decision. Looking at Barriss Offee's face, filled with compassion for her friend, despite her own loss, Obi-Wan wondered if it would not have helped his Padawan to have been more open with his friends.

Obi-Wan hesitated, contemplating what to tell Barriss Offee now. She was a model Jedi and he knew she would not betray his confidence. Still, it was not really his place, not his story to tell. The Council would disapprove…

And re-living Anakin's pain was not something he particularly felt like doing.

She must have sensed his reluctance because she drew near and touched his arm with her hand. "Please tell me."

Obi-Wan looked at her, feeling slightly more than curious about the effect his apprentice seemed to naturally have on females. He made a mental note to tell Luminairi about this stray observation; and also to add that her Padawan was unnaturally curious – a flaw that could get her into trouble – and that thought was followed by a flash of pain.

Luminairi was gone. Barriss had no Master to report to.

It was then he made up his mind. Perhaps knowing might help her and even Anakin. They were close friends after all.

He began slowly.

""Shmi… Shmi was her name." There was no thought to it. He couldn't believe he still remembered such a small detail. If was as if she was more real because she had a name. "He grew up with her on Tatooine until the age of nine. Even then, with no training, he was extremely talented in the Force. Qui-Gon and I discovered him there when Queen Amidala's ship required repairs after our flight from Naboo. Qui-Gon became… very interested in training him."

The memories rushed in and carried his words for him. He remembered the relatively straightforward mission gone strangely awry, then the solitude of the ship, his Master's cryptic message and the amazing results of the blood sample Qui-Gon had sent him. He remembered seeing Anakin for the first time… He remembered the Sith Lord they encountered, their narrow escape to Coruscant and Qui- Gon's words to the Council.

"Qui- Gon was determined to train him." Obi-Wan said out loud and even now, he could still taste the bitterness of his jealousy in his mouth.

"But you were already his apprentice."

"So the Council said. And Anakin was too old." He told her about how they had easily seen that Anakin had had a hard time leaving his mother, and formed attachments to Queen Amidala and Qui-Gon.

"Qui-Gon said I was ready for my trials and Anakin was … special. He had to be trained. The Council refused. Right in front of Anakin." And for the first time in ten years, Obi-Wan wondered what the nine-year-old boy had felt then. At the point in time he had been too consumed with his own outrage, and later after his Master's death, with his sense of obligation. For the first time in his guardianship of Anakin, Obi-Wan put himself in the boy's shoes.

Force, they were painful.

Barriss' aura was a quiet, responsive, open one beside him. She was like a sink, soaking up his confiding without judgment and Obi-Wan found himself speaking far more than he intended. It was unexpectedly cathartic; and not only was Anakin's unusual past helping Luminara's Padawan put things in perspective, it was also helping _him_. Only on a few occasions had Obi-Wan ever spoken so candidly about his and his Padawan's strange beginnings. Somehow Anakin's recent actions seemed to make more sense, if still cause for concern.

So Obi-Wan spoke about Naboo, and about the demon Sith that had killed his Master.

"Qui-Gon died in my arms, but first he made me promise to train Anakin."

This was something he had dwelled upon many times. Anakin had been this important to his Master. It had been Qui-Gon's dying wish…

Barriss' sympathetic voice shattered his musings.

"You felt as if he abandoned you for Anakin."

Obi-Wan flinched. Once again, her perspicacity caught him off guard and he needed to draw strength from the Force before he could continue. "Yes, I suppose a part of me has always felt that way." _And a part of me always will. _"But he died, I couldn't save him. And Anakin was his last gift to me."

Her sorrow welled up like a flooded river and he was grateful when she did not ask him further on the matter.

"And Anakin's mother?"

Obi-Wan's own sorrow turned to shame. "I don't really know what happened," he confessed. "Anakin was having nightmares and I didn't think much of them at the time."

_Why? Why hadn't he?_

"When he could no longer bear it, he returned to Tatooine. She died shortly after he found her. I don't know the details. Anakin could barely bear to speak of it. I don't... I didn't know what to _do. _If there was anything I could have done…"

But blaming himself for it now was too late.

Gently, reverently, but firmly, the Knight closed the old wound again.

"The past is the past, we must be mindful of the future. I couldn't save Master Qui-Gon no more than you could have saved Luminara, nor Anakin his mother."

"We have all suffered our losses, haven't we?" Barriss said and he could hear the bitterness in her voice.

_There is no death, there is only the Force._

Master Yoda's voice echoed the old precept of the code in Obi-Wan's head and this time, Obi-Wan did not resent it.

"I think it best we try and concentrate on those whom we _can _save…" Obi-Wan said softly, so softly that perhaps he was speaking to himself.

In a way he was.

"… because perhaps by healing them, we may finally begin to heal ourselves," he finished.

Her eyes filled with understanding and she nodded gravely.

Obi-Wan got to his feet and bowed to her.

"The Force be with you, Padawan Offee. May it give you strength to bear your losses, courage to face the battles ahead and wisdom to guide you in the right direction."

She nodded. She did not smile. But Obi-Wan could feel the gratitude that rolled off her in waves.

"And also with you, Master Kenobi."

He could still sense her as he made his way out of the Arboretum. No longer was she isolated from the Force. It flowed freely round and through her, wrapping her in the nourishing embrace of a mother to her child.

* * *

An air of solemnity hung like a heavy curtain over the Supreme Chancellor's office as a line of Jedi filed into the room. Council members Masters Yoda, Windu and Mundi took seats in front of the massive desk alongside loyalist leaders Bail Organa and Orn Free Taa. 

From his focal position behind the desk the Chancellor seemed to sense the somber mood of the assembly. For a change he didn't offer his usual affable greeting, merely nodding to each newcomer as they found a place around the room.

Masters Secura, Fisto and Kolar elected to stand respectfully behind the seated Council members. Adi Gallia and Siri Tachi followed, their expressions grim and resolute. They hung back, as if uncertain just where to position themselves. Siri's Padawan, Ferus Olin, stood resolute behind his Master.

Other loyalists observed from their positions around the room. Senators Darsana and Dio wore grave expressions that matched the ones worn by Organa and Free Taa. Senator Farr and Senator Aak were more difficult to read as they stared intently at each of the Jedi.

Long moments of silence filled the room until Mace Windu spoke.

"Lord High Chancellor, as you are no doubt aware by now, our mission to Raxus Prime has failed. Despite our best efforts and at no small price, Count Dooku remains free to lead the separatists. Their armies grow stronger each day."

Palpatine nodded, steepling his fingers underneath his chin thoughtfully as Master Windu continued.

"The Jedi Order has served the Republic for millennia under the wise counsel of the Supreme Chancellors. Our role as Republic servants - arbitrators, negotiators and peace-keepers - has defined our order to the galaxy. It will be no different now."

Several senators exchanged glances with each other. Bail Organa stared intently past the Chancellor, as if absorbed in the traffic lanes outside.

"We, the Jedi Order, will acquiesce to the Senate. If the Chancellor still wishes, we will take up arms in the Clone Wars. We will lead the Army of the Republic."

The Chancellor exhaled slowly, a careful smile lifting the corners of his mouth. The other loyalists wore similar expressions. The Rodian Onaconda Farr, didn't even bother to guard his open pleasure about the decision. With the exception of the stone-faced Organa, most appeared deeply relieved. It was obvious they felt this decision could turn the tide of the war.

The Jedi around the room appeared resolute. Whatever their differences were with this decision, clearly they had put them aside to present a united front. They would bow to the will of their own Council, who would now follow the lead of the Republic.

Palpatine spoke, breaking the silence. "There is no way to tell you how much this will mean to the Republic. The Senate and the Temple can once again stand united. Our armies will gain new strength."

Master Yoda exchanged a look with Senator Organa before speaking.

"Grave misgivings about this course of action we still have, but know, we do, that it is our best hope."

Ki-Adi-Mundi nodded in agreement, his eyes lighting on Siri and Adi. "Too much time and too many lives have been lost already."

"It is final, then." The Chancellor murmured. "Your Graces, I hereby place the Commanders of the Army at your disposal." He rose from his seat. "I will go and make the necessary announcements."

The rest of the assembly rose with him and for a moment, everybody looked at everyone else. Then Palpatine stepped forward and in his wake, the two pillars of the Republic – the Senate and the Jedi Order followed.

* * *


	14. Living the Truth

**CHAPTER XIII**

**Living the Truth**

The Supreme Chancellor of the Republic had asked his contacts in the Theed Palace to inform him the moment the Senator of Naboo returned to her official residences. That morning, almost five days after he spoke to the same Senator on Coruscant, the message finally came through.

Palpatine considered the new development for a long time.

There were many reasons why pursuing this particular venture would be purposeless. On one hand, the woman in question had certainly thwarted his original plans by breaking off her budding relationship with the Jedi's Chosen One and thus preventing him from making the damning choice that Palpatine had hinged so many plans on. On the other hand, how much difference had her refusal made in the larger scheme of things? If Palpatine's Force-enhanced intuition served him well – and it usually did – then the boy was even more conflicted and disturbed by her rejection than he might have been had she accepted him. For sure the decision to remain with the Jedi had been taken out of Anakin's hands; Palpatine knew the boy well enough to realize that if Anakin had not turned in his lightsaber the moment he arrived on Coruscant, he was not about to turn it in at all. But it was a grudging service the boy would give from henceforth. A reluctant one. Because now the boy would have two losses to hold against the Order – his mother, and the Senator.

All in all everything _had_ gone according to plan.

Still, as a matter of principle, he would have to punish Senator Amidala for her interference, intended or not.

Not now, most certainly not now when all his more important plans were bearing fruition. But sometime in the future, there was a debt to be repaid.

Palpatine made the call to the Royal Palace.

* * *

Senator Amidala of the Naboo had expected the call from the Supreme Chancellor much later but she was glad for his timing. 

She believed in slaying her dragons quickly.

"I am so glad to see you well again, Senator. These past few days have caused me incessant concern. I thank the gods for your successful recovery."

"I thank you for your concern, Chancellor," she said quietly.

"How I have missed your companionship and counsel on Coruscant. Seeing you again is like seeing home," he declared passionately.

"I am hardly as beautiful as Naboo but I thank your Excellency for your kind words."

There were more such pleasant exchanges. Sightlessly, Amidala watched a flock of birds fly across her window. She replied by rote, tapping the fingers he could not see on her desk while she waited for him to get to his point.

He did eventually.

"When will you be returning to Coruscant? As you can see in your short period of convalescence, there have been many changes made. Great changes indeed."

"I am aware of the changes, your Excellency."

Oh she was well aware of them. She had never been out of circulation even during the period she was being nursed to health in her own bed. There would have been very little point to the decisions she had made of late if she had gone out of circulation. And the day that the HoloNet announced that the Jedi Order was formally pledging its services to the Republic Military, she had got to her feet and started packing her things.

Her mother and sister's protests had fallen on deaf ears.

"Padmé, you are still weak! You can barely stand let alone walk!"

Amidala had leaned against the chest of drawers and ordered Dormé and Artoo around the small room. She was too weak to argue with them. What strength she had was better channelled into the task at hand.

"Ruwee, talk some sense into the child!" That had been her mother to her father.

Ruwee Naberrie had been watching the whole scene from the threshold of Padme's bedroom. He lifted his arms hopelessly.

"Do you not see the look on her face, Jobal? She may have been a child to us once but now she belongs to Naboo. And she has a job to do."

Indeed. Talking to Palpatine was part of that job.

"I tried to make as many of these decisions according to what you would perhaps have guided me," Palpatine said. "But I am afraid that it would have been hard to say exactly what you would have had me guided by!"

"I don't understand, Chancellor." She understood all too well.

Palpatine threw up his hands as if he, too, did not understand.

"Certain parties in the Senate spoke of how you would have approved of the militarization of the Republic. 'Isn't it ironic that the leader of the opposition to the Military Creation Act was a soldier in the very first conflict? I think her actions speak louder than her words,' they said and I quote." Palpatine said with the shamefaced expression of a man who is repeating an insult to its intended.

It rolled off Amidala's back like water over an Alderaani duck. It was no better or worse than she'd heard from her contacts on Coruscant already. And she doubted very much if it had made any difference to Palpatine's final decision. She doubted very much if Palpatine had even once considered her when he made his final decision. About the present Jedi militarization declaration. Or even about that first Battle of Geonosis.

Amidala had done a lot of great deal of thinking during her 'convalescence'. It had caused her to start doubting a lot of things.

"Whichever way I would have voted, it hardly makes a difference now, does it?" Amidala asked coolly.

The answer was certainly not what the Chancellor had been expecting. There was a tiny, tiny pause from the image, one that she would have missed if she had not watched for it. Then Palpatine spoke and when he did, his voice was not quite the same. It had flinted very, very marginally.

_That_ she did not notice.

"It will make a difference in the future." He said mildly. "When similar matters that you feel strongly about are placed on the decision table. Your presence in your office – preferably the one you hold on Coruscant – would make a strong difference."

"Might, your Excellency."

"Pardon me?"

"With all due respect Chancellor, the operative word there should have been 'might' not 'would'."

There was another pause, this one much longer. Then suddenly Palpatine burst into laughter. The transmission distorted the sound so what had to have been deep, merry booms in his office light years away, came out of her audio speakers like high, dry cackles.

It was a warm sunny day and her sun-walled office was warmer still, but Amidala shivered slightly.

"Oh how much I miss you!" Palpatine managed between chuckles. Amidala noted wryly that reminding her how much he missed his misinterpretation of her humor was not exactly flattering. "You will return to Coruscant soon, won't you?"

"Short of an executive order, your Excellency," and she watched him carefully as she said it, "no."

His laughter finally subsided. He sighed deeply. "I would be a sad man indeed if I had to order my friends to come to me whenever I needed to." He sighed again. "You are resolved to stay on Naboo? You genuinely believe that you serve our people's interests best by remaining away from the Capital?"

Now an appeal to her sense of duty. The first was an appeal to her personal political ego. It should have been the other way around. It served to show how little he knew her, no matter how much he claimed to.

"Yes, Chancellor, I do. And the Delegation on Coruscant has not been abandoned. I have able Representatives there, not the least being Representative Binks."

Palpatine smiled suddenly, a wide hawk-like grin that was so disconcerting that when it flashed away the next second, Amidala was convinced that she had imagined it.

"Able Representatives," he repeated. "Very well, my dear. I will not trouble you further. I know you have a great deal to do."

She nodded with relief. That smile was still bothering her. She was reaching for the off switch when his words stopped her again.

"By the way, have you heard from Padawan Skywalker of late?"

Like a trap closing over a nati rat, the steel cage that was her chest closed so tightly over her heart that she could almost hear the ribs slam. She froze with her hand poised over the button and studied the wall-flower pattern of her carpet that was visible but distorted through the holo projection.

"No."

It was not a whisper. It was loud and cold and indiscernible from the voice she now used.

"He got himself into some trouble a few days ago. An unscheduled trip to Naboo, I believe." Palpatine laughed his laugh again. "These Jedi are impossible sometimes, the way they treat their charges like infants. Anyway, I wondered if he had come to see you?"

"He must have come during my illness." Careful, but without hesitation. She gave him an answer without missing a beat.

"Oh, how unfortunate. He is inordinately fond of you, you know."

"Indeed, Chancellor?"

"Oh indeed. A less busy man than myself might have even wondered if his recent assignment had not proved problematic for that reason." His voice was self-disparaging, the voice of an old man scolding himself for digging for gossip but unable to stop all the same.

Amidala did not answer. The intricacies of the floral pattern occupied all her concentration. If her heart was slowing or her breathing cooling, it was of no consequence.

Her silence stretched long enough and Palpatine broke it by laughing for the third time. "Listen to me, gossiping like an old woman. We both have work to do, I'm sure. My regards to you, my lady, now and always."

"Thank you, your Excellency." And she completed the halted motion and ended the transmission.

Dormé stepped into the office a few minutes later to find her mistress elbow-deep in the files on her desk.

"You cancelled my appointment with the Education Mistress?" Amidala asked promptly.

"Yes, my lady. Your schedule was already stretched thin -"

"But it could be stretched some more. Push up my inspection of the new handmaidens to noon then."

"But my lady -"

"We cannot insult the Mistress by making the same appointment twice."

Dormé opened her mouth to protest – and shut it. She nodded mutely and turned to go.

"And Dormé?"

She turned back. "My lady?"

"Next time you break an appointment I make without duly consulting me, you will seek your appointment elsewhere. Am I understood?"

Dormé recoiled as if she had been slapped. She stared wordlessly at her Mistress for a long time, her eyes filling gradually with tears.

Amidala's head was already bent over her work. After a long time, she heard her young handmaiden leaving the office, her steps as muffled as her sobs.

Amidala impressed her seal upon the letter to the Malastarian Senator. There was work to be done.

* * *

"Good-day, your Excellency." 

When her form had materialized on the holoproj and for the first time in his life, Palpatine had experienced that sensation of displacement in time – the one the Falleen called the déjà vu – so strongly that for a moment, he had really believed that this was ten years ago, and the image in front of him was of the pale, stern Queen of Naboo that he had last paid homage to.

The sensation had passed quickly but not the impression that caused it. And the more Amidala spoke in her cool, stern tones, her voice forming words that in more than one occasion gave him pause, the more deeply the impression remained with him.

The last time he had seen Padmé Amidala in the flesh was after Geonosis, right after the first Battle of the Clone Wars as a matter of fact. Then she had been tired, grimy and flushed with battle adrenaline and the emotional bond that was forming between her and the Chosen One. She had looked older, more mature, more woman.

Now this Amidala looked nothing like that woman but rather she looked like that girl-Queen of a decade ago. There was no flush in her cheeks, nor softness in her face. Instead, she was pale enough to rival ritual make-up; and she looked impossibly young, with innocence that was neither naïve nor foolish, but righteous, wise, ruthless…

It was more than a distortion from the transmitter, more than the defined lines of her face, condensed to fit the small volume of space of the projection. He had heard it in her voice, in its fine modulations. Certainly, it had not possessed the timbre of Royalty but the accent, the _authority_ in it was the same.

And when Amidala had made that statement about 'might' vs. 'would', he spared himself a fraction of a second to say to himself, "All that remains is the crown of Zenda on her head and Queen Jamilla would be bowing to this girl."

Palpatine drifted to the window of his office. Even though it was nighttime on Coruscant, the traffic lanes were forever busy. He watched the pattern of lights in the sky… in _his _sky as he pondered this new development.

_What does not kill you makes you stronger. _

It was a lesson that he had had to master in the course of his _other_ career.

Whatever existed between Padmé Amidala and Anakin Skywalker had not succeeded in killing her. And so it had hardened her. She was brittle now, all sharp lines and cutting wit.

Whether she realized it or not, she was his enemy now in a way that she had never been before. In the past, he had gone against (whether she realized it or not) a woman with so much passion and fire that he had watched in amusement, waiting for the time her own zeal would consume her. Now this girl was cold, cold and hard, brittle and sharp as the dangerous ice shards of the planet Hoth.

_If she is brittle then she is also fragile_, the Sith Master decided savagely.

And when the time was right, he would break her.

* * *

Obi-Wan felt it in slow motion, a clenched fist sailing gracefully towards his right temple. It was too fast to see, but the vibrations in the air were unmistakable. He didn't even have to think, his body instinctually moved centimeters to the left. The blow glanced off his hairline. He felt its shimmery heat on his temple. 

Across from him in the wide sun-lit expanse of the Jedi training room, Anakin stood slouched over, as if nothing had happened, unaffected, yet… dangerous. He stared at Obi-Wan with a dull expectancy.

The Knight felt a prick of warning on the back of his neck. Anakin's period of solitude had ended this morning and this was the first day Obi-Wan had spent with his apprentice since the incident with Ferus Olin.

He had no idea what to expect from his apprentice.

"Again."

Without hesitation, and the formality of an attack stance, Anakin spun to the left, forearm targeting his Master's shoulder blades. Mimicking his turn, Obi-Wan reached his arm around, grabbing his opponent's wrist easily.

"Anakin, you're not trying."

Anakin wrenched himself out of his Master's grip.

"This wasn't my idea."

Obi-Wan sighed the quiet sigh of a parent with an unruly child, knowing that showing his exasperation would only encourage further insubordinate behavior. Unfortunately it was extremely difficult to hide anything from his gifted Padawan. It was one of Anakin's most useful and annoying traits.

But this was not about Anakin's incredible mental gifts; it was about his childish behavior. Obi-Wan had thought formal personal combat training would help refocus his Padawan's mind, mend the recent rift their relationship had suffered. Apparently he had thought wrong.

Enough of this.

"You seem to have forgotten what it means for a Jedi to fight. I intend on reminding you until it is no longer possible to forget."

The Knight's usual placid demeanor was tinged with frost. The change was not lost on Anakin. Before the Force could even warn him, Anakin's palm shot towards Obi-Wan's chest, stopping directly over his heart.

"I haven't forgotten."

Anakin's icy blue eyes bore into Obi-Wan, and for the second time in as many weeks the Knight was actually afraid. Not of Anakin – _for_ Anakin.

Obi-Wan grabbed the young man by the shoulders. This had to end now.

"What is wrong, Anakin? Why are you acting this way? First you defy the Council and myself, you physically attack a fellow Padawan, you run off to Naboo for Force knows why…. People are _dying_, Anakin. We're in the middle of a _war. _We Jedi do not have time for pettiness and senseless anger. What is wrong?"

Anakin's eyes narrowed.

"Wrong? _Wrong?_" he spat the words as if their simple meaning insulted him. His icy calm had dissolved. "Don't presume that you know me. You have _never_ known me. The Jedi can't possibly understand."

Turning his back on Obi-Wan, Anakin stalked across the wooden floor of the private training room. As he moved the room's artificial light seemed to darken, billowing behind him in a cloak of shadows.

Obi-Wan stood in the center, rooted to the spot. For the second time in his life, the first since his Master died in front of him, he was utterly lost.

How did he ever think he could properly train Anakin? This perpetual state of helplessness was completely foreign to him. Anakin was becoming unraveled, and he was taking Obi-Wan along with him.

The suffocating feeling of indecision pressed on the Knight from all sides. He watched the boy's dark figure stalking away and he grappled with his helplessness. What to do… who to turn to? Advice? Not from the Council. No.

Obi-Wan sighed in deep sadness. The only thing he could do was trust in the Force.

So he gave himself completely to it, letting go of all his thoughts and emotions, pouring them into the great abyss of space and time, letting them radiate outward through the omnipotent entity called the Force.

From across the room Anakin winced.

* * *

He hated him for doing it. 

Usually Obi-Wan was so guarded, so private about his feelings that Anakin never really felt them. Never knew his Master _had _feelings as a matter of fact. _And now, when I want most to be angry with him, and everyone in this place… he goes and becomes open and vulnerable._

Obi-Wan's confusion and sadness washed over him in waves and Anakin had to lean against the wall with his mechanical arm to bear it.

_No matter how independent, the child never really wants to know their parent is lost. They want them to take care of everything._

"Anakin, please." It was such a quiet, simple request. But Anakin couldn't quite let go, not yet.

"What? What do you want from me? You want me to say I'm sorry for fighting Ferus? Well I'm not, he deserved it." He said to the wall.

"No…" Obi-Wan tried to continue, but Anakin cut him off, spinning around to face his Master.

"You want me to be sorry for taking that shuttle to Naboo? You want me to be sorry about the way I feel for Padmé? You want me to be sorry for talking back to you? _Sorry_ for my mother's death? Is there anything else I can be sorry about Master?"

Padmé. Gods, it still hurt to say her name.

Damn her

With each question Anakin advanced further towards Obi-Wan. Each step felt heavier, as if he were forcing himself to continue, as if he were walking against an unyielding force. His Master looked at him in curious anticipation. Perhaps deciding that is was better to let Anakin rant than to interrupt him.

"Fine! I am sorry, alright? For all of it. More than you can possible know. I wish it didn't have to be… but it's too late, there's no other way." Anakin's eyes glazed over, "it's too late."

* * *

Obi-Wan had opened up a connection between them so big a Corellian Battle Cruiser could fly through it. But Anakin was unwilling to participate. He was so strong in the Force that normally his emotions broadcasted through it unwittingly, but now all Obi-Wan could feel coming from him was a dull ache, and that alarmed him more than anything. 

_Jedi do not know Fear._

"It's never too late, Anakin. Tell me what's wrong." Obi-Wan could hear the agitation in his own voice. "We don't have time for this. There's a war beginning. As it is now you are not fit to fight in it. I will recommend that you stay behind. But I don't want that. I know you don't either. I want you by my side. But you have to stop this."

There was a momentary crack in Anakin's resolve. He had moved close enough to touch, He now stood head down, dark blonde hair falling over his face. Obi-Wan could feel that he was concentrating on breathing, slowly, and methodically. For several long moments they remained, the tension between them rigid.

Then slowly Anakin tilted his head towards his Master, his face a mask. It was his eyes, blue as the lakes of Naboo, that truly frightened Obi-Wan, they stared through his Master with eyes that were so completey hollow it hurt to look at them. But Obi-Wan had to: had to make himself look into them, past the tears Anakin was furiously blinking back, past the surface and into the black pool beyond.

All he could see was pain, suffocating and blinding pain. Images flashed at a frenetic pace, too short for him to process them one and a time, but the one underlying emotion hit Obi-Wan like a Gamorrean prizefighter.

Pain.

_There is no pain, only the Force._

Obi-Wan could not keep the shock from registering on his face. He looked at Anakin as if he'd never seen him before. This was not the naïve child he had watched grow up over the past ten years, this was a man overflowing with pain and fear, anger, love, compassion, arrogance, confusion…

Abruptly Obi-Wan shut the connection, which left both Master and Apprentice swaying on unsteady legs, breathing hard. He found himself staring with blank fascination at the wood grains on the lacquered floor beneath their feet. The air in the room felt unusually hot; sweat trickled down the sides of his face.

Obi-Wan slowly forced himself to stand upright, to look his Padawan in the face. When he did, he saw a completely different person. It was not the rash, angry, insubordinate young man who was here just minutes before, but instead Obi-Wan finally saw Anakin how he truly was: fearful, confused, still in deep anguish over his mother's death and… in love with Padmé. There it was, the crux of it all. Thinking back over the past few months Obi-Wan realized just how blind he had been. How he had ignored all the obvious signs, because he had trusted blindly in the advice of the Council, the Code and his own arrogant wisdom and forgotten that Anakin was a unique human being with feelings he had never been taught to deal with.

And at the bottom of his soul, Obi-Wan had the insidious feeling that it was indeed too late, and he was profoundly ashamed.

Anakin still hadn't moved. Obi-Wan, unsure of what to do, put a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"How foolish I have been. I am the one who should offer an apology. I didn't know… I…"

"What's done is done, Obi-Wan." Anakin interrupted him. It was amazing how easily Obi-Wan could read the vulnerability in Anakin's hollow eyes. It was amazing to realize that he had never bothered to truly look before.

"I cannot change what has happened," Anakin continued. "I cannot change the way I feel, but it's over. All I can do now is trust in the Force." He sounded as if he was trying not to convince his Master, but himself.

Obi-Wan let him speak. He had no words of comfort or wisdom that would even begin to be adequate enough. It was time for Anakin to be the bigger man.

"You're right," Anakin was saying, "there is a war happening. The Jedi are at its centre and there isn't time for immaturity. I want to fight. I'm ready to fight. And I want to do it beside you Master, if you will have me."

He lifted his chin. Some of the color was retuning to his face and he stood more upright. Resolution showed in every line of his body. And more importantly, he seemed content for now to let their understanding go by unchallenged, and for that Obi-Wan was grateful. It would take him a long time to fully process and understand all that Anakin Skywalker was, but he wanted desperately to try.

"I… of course, Anakin. Of course, I want you." Obi-Wan answered, his mouth dry.

Anakin simply nodded. There was no smile or grateful look. Rather, the look of disquieting sorrow had never left his face, his eyes… Without another word, he turned on his heel and exited the training facility leaving his still speechless Master standing in the middle of the room, feeling like the only person in the Jedi Temple who did not deserve to be there.

* * *

**Authors' Notes: This is the last chapter of Volume 1.** **Thanks to all our readers who managed to stay with us during this long narration. **


	15. Epilogue, Sith Musings

**EPILOGUE**

**Sith Musings**

Darkness caressed him with all the affection of a mother for a favored child – soothing, intoxicating… He was bathed in its non-Light, nourished by its vampiric power…

Darth Tyrannus stood at the edge of the hangar, his tall, dark figure like a black sword blade against the red glow of the fading daylight. His eyes tracked the path of the near-invisible craft that had just taken off from the hangar until it flew over the horizon. He remained standing there, hands clasped behind his back, a look of grim concentration on a face that had never been handsome, but was still strikingly aristocratic.

_"Everything is going according to plan."_

Never had his Master's words proved more prophetic than they did at this moment. The impervious, impeccable, almighty Jedi Order had capitulated. After holding out for even longer than Lord Tyrannus had credited, the 'guardians of peace and justice of the universe' were now no better than the mass-produced clone mercenaries that populated the Republic Army. Threatened with the danger of losing their tenuous influence on the Republic, the Jedi Order had capitulated to the Senate's demands. Tyrannus was hardly surprised. It was not the first time he had been disillusioned by his former _family_.

So why was he so besieged with anger and disappointment?

Had he actually been holding onto the dream that the Order he had given more than half his life to… the Order that had taken and taken and _taken_ from him – his name, his free will, his 'sons', his _conscience_… the Order that had only given in return criticism of compromised values… the Order that had mired itself in the corruption it was supposed to condemn… the Order that had reduced its finest Knights to little more than the Chancellor's elite assassins…

Had he actually believed that _now_ the same Order would rise above itself?

The eddies of Dark currents flowing through and around him trembled violently.

_Fool!_

There were no more illusions. The battle line had been drawn as clearly as the red sunset that scarred the horizon of Geonosis that fateful day.

He recalled his encounter with Knight Kenobi. Tyrannus had given him truth and Kenobi had rejected it. Denied it. Just as the young Knights he had encountered on Raxus Prime had. And all the while they had clung to their self-righteousness in the face of their own murderous assignment, their refusal to listen to reason. They _all _insisted on clinging to their dream of a Republic that no longer existed. A Republic where peace and justice ruled. That dream was dead - and no good men existed with strength enough to resurrect it.

There was no light or dark side. Only power and those who had the courage to use it. There was no good or evil. Only the strength of those who were unshackled.

The Jedi had hidden and shackled themselves in their ivory temple for decades. Living, eating and breathing their stagnant, constrained, complacent Code while the Republic withered around them and the Galaxy fell. Now they were spurred into action for the worst possible reasons. Now, as the glorified soldiers of a Sith Master, the Jedi had nailed the first durasteel nail into the coffin of their self-annihilation.

Too little. Too late.

_Fools._

With a sweep of his robes, Lord Tyrannus turned from the edge of the hangar. He had got all he needed from Coruscant – first hand confirmation of the Order's decision, consultation with his Master; and an interlude with his most faithful ally and spy – the one person in the Galaxy he could trust…

There was still no word on the location of Jango Fett's ward who had escaped Raxus Prime in the confusion of the Jedi's attack. Had he been taken in by the clone soldiers? Perhaps mistakenly as a younger clone?

Tyrannus smirked. Not mistakenly.

Then his smile vanished as his thoughts became angry. He should have killed the boy a long time ago when he had the chance. Holding back had been foolish and dangerous; now the very real and threatening possibility of the boy revealing his secrets to the Jedi Order hung over the Sith's head like a two-bladed lightsaber. Tyrannus grimaced. His occasional flights of compassion were crippling weaknesses he needed to eliminate.

His old, stern face hardened further.

He had lost one strange child but he was determined to lay hands on the other.

His quarry had returned to the Temple at last, and the reasons for his departure were fantastic. If anyone other than his most trusted contact had told him _that _well-kept secret, the Sith Lord would have been hard pressed to believe it.

And so, Tyrannus' thoughts were drawn to the topic of Anakin Skywalker, who had gone to Naboo in chase of a woman who had rejected him…

As he stepped into his vessel, the Sith Lord recalled that one impressive encounter with Kenobi's apprentice's aura. For the first time, Tyrannus remembered something beside the arrogance, the power and the foolish impulsiveness. He remembered the threads of anger, the fount of passion released as if from a spring, the black slashes of fear, resentment, of forced duty that had run through Anakin Skywalker's aura like a badly knitted tapestry. It was an unsettlingly familiar pattern: one that Dooku recognized all too well. For he was cursed with unfailing memory and could still remember his own apprenticeship; and all the stages of anger and denial; the hopeless task of contorting himself to a society that he could not conform to; the driven urgency with which he had tried to find even one other Jedi like himself; the despair and deception when he discovered there was none, and he was utterly alone. The same badly knitted tapestry that had threaded the soul of Anakin Skywalker, Jedi apprentice had also run through the soul of young Yan Dooku, Jedi apprentice.

Unbidden, unasked, a current of sympathy for his enemy was felt by the old Jedi Master.

Darth Tyrannus shook off the unwelcome emotion like an unwanted shawl from his shoulders. He wrapped his cloak around his body, the Darkness around his soul and ascended into the polluted skies of Coruscant.

He was a Lord of the Sith.

The only dealings he had with Jedi were the dealings of the clash of lightsabers. The dealings of death.

And he would deal ungrudgingly and generously.

The battle line was drawn.

No retreat. No surrender.

* * *

Continued in Thwarted Fate, the Book of Descent, Volume II

* * *

**Authors' Note:To our oldreaders who have stayed with us to the end of this narration, thanks so much for your companionship. Your support and encouragement were greatly appreciated.**

**To new readers, please if you've read this story to the end, kindly take a few seconds of your time and let us know what you thought. A few words of feedback from our readers takes us writers a very long way.**


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